Do You See Me?
by DoctorAdrienTheJedi
Summary: A modern AU. Christine starts her new job, at a small music shop, as a university student and meets her slightly odd, and unfortunately socially awkward coworker. While he might not be much to look at, he wouldn't know.
1. See Me Now

Erik touched the last few keys of the piano as he walked by. The ivory was cool under his fingers and he imagined how it would sound. He knew the sound of that piano well. He had played it often enough that he could easily identify it by sound.

He allowed his hand to fall limp by his side as he walked. The other hand was slightly extended before him to keep him from breaking anything by running into it at full force. He walked to the door and opened it.

Erik felt the cool air rush in and past his hands and neck, but the mask protected his face from the breeze.

Erik had never seen his own face, but his mother had never refrained from keeping it from the view of others. She refused to look at it herself and he had worn a mask for the majority of his life for her comfort and for others.

As he stepped onto the porch, Erik let out a tired breath. He was set out for another day of work at the music store, where he could only expect to face the worst in people.

He walked down the street and could hear others mill about him. They walked casually with their friends, family, and pets. They took only slight notice of the tall figure with the walking stick before they noticed the mask. He knew they were lingering on his hidden face and they had an instant mistrust for him.

He had not had to experience much of the world to know how his mask was viewed.

He reached the store and entered.

The bell rang when the door opened and he made his way carefully to the back where the counter was.

A new voice greeted him today and he tilted his head at the sound.

"Good day sir, what can I do for you?"

It was a gentle, happy voice and Erik could not detect even the slightest hesitation. He was a bit put off by this as his mask usually made people at least a bit confused or concerned.

"Oh, uh," he coughed out in response, "I am the string instrument consultant and repairman."

He waited for the inevitable questioning.

"Oh!" the voice said joyfully, "Nice to meet you. I'm Christine and I just started. I'm going to work at the counter. We will probably be seeing a lot of each other."

Erik smiled.

"Unfortunately, I don't think I will be _seeing_ much of you," he said.

Christine was silent for only a moment before responding.

"Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. You can't see. I apologize if that was at all offensive to you. Perhaps you will be hearing me frequently, then."

Erik nodded. He appreciated the fact that she was reacting so comfortably.

"I suppose so," he said.

He made his way back to his office and leaned his stick against the wall. He hardly needed it in a place he knew so well. He stepped up to his desk and began to string the violin that was sitting there. He carefully pulled the strings into their places and turned the pegs to fasten them. He picked it up and rested it gently under his chin, cradling it on his collar bone. He quickly tuned it and made sure it was in proper working order.

Once it was tuned, Erik couldn't help but play a few melodies. He paced around his office as he played and smiled at the pleasant sound of the newly repaired instrument. The violin was one of his favorite instruments. It had a clear, sometimes ethereal sound that could capture the mind of anyone.

Erik stopped abruptly when he heard it. From the other room, he heard a beautiful voice. It had been singing along with the violin as he played and they had harmonized nearly perfectly. As untrained as the voice was, it had the potential to become the finest voice he had ever heard.

Almost tripping over his own chair that he had known was there, he walked back to the door of his office and flung it opened. The voice stopped and he could hear something fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry for frightening you," he said carefully to who he assumed was Christine, "I heard you singing."

There was a silence between them as she picked up the pencils she had dropped in surprise.

"I, I'm sorry," she began nervously, "I just really like that song and I couldn't help myself."

Erik could hear the embarrassment in her voice and smiled kindly.

"No need to apologize," he stated firmly, but gently, "You have a magnificent voice."

Another silence.

"Do you enjoy the violin?" Erik asked.

Christine hesitated for a moment.

"My father used to play it for me and, and I liked to sing with it. I don't mean to interrupt your playing. I know, I know… I'm sorry."

Erik frowned. To hear her so embarrassed and withdrawn made him feel guilty. He had not meant to make her feel she had done any wrong. He could tell she was insecure about her voice and he knew he had just made her very uncomfortable.

"Christine," he began softly, "I merely stopped playing to find the source of such a beautiful voice. You are welcome to sing as I play, or when I'm not playing, or whenever you like. I could not think of anything that would make me happier."

Christine began shuffling through papers and small items. She seemed to be avoiding speaking to him again and he guessed she had turned away from him to avoid looking toward him as well.

Erik let his head fall. He had messed up. She was never going to sing around him again. She probably thought he was an eclectic, strange, lurid, man who entertained himself by making young girls feel uncomfortable. He could see no way to redeem himself from this situation and mentally slapped himself for managing to botch his first actual possibly pleasant human interaction in ages.


	2. Not Her Thing

Christine turned back to look at him. He had his head bowed as if deeply sad or embarrassed. She sighed and his head perked up slightly.

"I appreciate the compliment," she said, "I'm just not quite comfortable in my voice at the moment."

He nodded understandingly.

"I understand and I know I have just contributed to your discomfort. I sincerely apologize for that and hope you can become more comfortable in the future."

Christine let out a slow breath with the shake of her head. The motion was an instinct and she was aware he could not see it.

"I honestly am trying," she said, wringing her hands, "But my voice coach quit a few months ago and no one will take me on. I can't seem to make a good first impression. They all think I lack confidence, and I know I do. I just don't know what to do and now I'm just ranting about my problems to a complete stranger who probably doesn't care and would rather I just shut up."

Christine covered her face with her hands as it began to grow hot with her embarrassed blush.

Christine heard the man curse under his breath. She lifted her head to see the deep frown on his face.

"Any voice coach that's any good knows that confidence needs to be built. It's not always natural and it's particularly rare in those of actual talent. You can't build your confidence if none of them give you the bloody light of day," He stated angrily. Some color was rising into his thin, unusually pale lips from his emotion. "If they won't teach you, you don't need them. You deserve better."

The two of them stood in shared shock at his outburst. He himself seemed to not quite understand why he had reacted with such passion to her troubles.

"Well," Christine said with a bashful smile, "I guess I'll just have to find the right teacher."

The man smiled slightly and turned to return to his office.

"Wait!" Christine said hurriedly, "I didn't ever get your name."

The man turned back to her.

"My name is Erik," he said.

"Okay. Nice talking to you Erik," She replied.

The man returned to his office and closed the door behind him. Christine tried to focus on her work, but she kept thinking of the way he had seemed when he had burst from his office.

He had seemed to be intent on finding the voice and hearing it better. It was not unlike the look her father had sometimes had when playing a particularly beautiful piece. It was like he had glimpsed pure happiness or majesty.

Surely, her voice wasn't that good. She couldn't imagine she sounded good enough to warrant that sort of reaction. Erik seemed to be a kind guy, but he might be a bit out of it.

She tossed her blond ponytail over her shoulder and took inventory of the small boxes on the counter. She tried to busy herself with work and ignore the violin that would occasionally play from the back room.

She spoke with a few people who came in to look at sheet music and some other things such as the guitars and violins. They never stayed for long and only a couple people even bought anything. Only a few small trinkets like guitar picks and metronomes.

At the end of her shift, Christine packed up the things she had on the counter and logged out.

As she walked down the street, she heard footsteps behind her and, for some reason, thought it might be that guy from the shop. Erik.

She stiffened as they approached, but when an arm hooked on hers, she knew who it belonged to.

"Meg!" Christine said with a smile, "Oh, thank goodness it's you."

Meg gave her a questioning look, but her smile never faltered.

"Who else would it be?" she asked.

Christine laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, I for some reason thought someone from work might be following me," she replied, "But I'm just being silly. He isn't the type."

Meg shrugged and they continued walking. They chatted and Christine told Meg all about her first day of work at the music shop. She had loved the first day so far, despite the strange interaction she had had with her coworker.

"Okay, so I've heard everything about this guy except for what he looks like," prodded Meg. She gently bumped into Christine as if to get her to keep going.

Christine thought for a minute.

"Oh!" she said with a laugh, "I hardly noticed, but he wears a funny sort of mask. He's blind, I heard, so he wears a mask that doesn't have any holes for his eyes. I suppose it's for the same reason some blind people wear dark sunglasses."

Meg seemed taken aback by this.

"So you don't even know what he looks like?" she asked.

Christine shrugged. "I suppose not, but he doesn't know what I look like either," she joked, "besides, I don't really care what he looks like. He seems like a pretty nice guy."

Meg rolled her eyes.

"You are the strangest girl I have ever met," she sighed.

Christine smiled.

"Says the girl who believes in ghosts," she teased.

Meg stuck out her lower lip in a pout.

"Well that's rude," she replied, "But I suppose it's true."

The two friends walked until they reached the flat they shared as they attended university. They entered and Meg began preparing some food for them to eat as Christine cleared the table off.

Christine sipped her tea as Meg told her all about the latest gossip and the library she had visited and was convinced it was haunted.

Glancing at the clock, Christine stood up.

"I should be going to my class about now," she said, "I wouldn't want to be late again. My professor already dislikes me."

She wrapped her scarf around her neck as it had become a bit windy while they had been sitting. She pulled on a coat that she particularly liked. It was dark blue and reached down to her thighs instead of stopping at her hips. It was warm and she liked the style.

She bid goodbye to her flatmate and headed out.

Christine preferred to walk places, so she could often be found walking the streets between classes and work.

The wind blew at her hair and she regretted having left it in a ponytail and not put it in a braid. It was sure to be a complete mess by the time she arrived at class. She could feel it whipping around her face and the individual strands tying themselves together. She inwardly groaned and continued with slightly quicker steps.

As she reached the building, she pulled the door open swiftly and dove in, out of the wind. The sudden stillness was nearly claustrophobic in comparison to the weather outside. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out and began walking to the lecture hall. She wasn't particularly fond of this class, but she needed it to get the degree she wanted.

Christine began unbuttoning her coat and unwrapping the scarf from around her neck as she entered the lecture hall.

The professor hardly glanced in her direction as she took her seat with the other students. She sat to the side in a row of seats that had few others as occupants. The room was less full than the last time she had been there, but Christine didn't mind.

As the professor started drawing some sort of diagram on the board, Christine heard a voice clear from behind her.

She turned to be met with a familiar face. She couldn't place it immediately, but when he mouthed "hey, Lottie," she remembered.

Raoul, one of her oldest friends.

Why he was in this class at university she hadn't the slightest, but she was glad to see him nonetheless. She smiled and nodded a greeting to him.

He had certainly been through some changes since they had seen each other last. He was tan and had let his hair grow so it brushed his face. The small moustache he was clearly working on made Christine roll her eyes. He had clearly done a good deal of manual labor as his muscles were more clearly defined.

The professor began explaining his diagram and Christine turned to listen. He had produced an intricate diagram depicting a building of some sort of Asian origin, Christine guessed.

Tapping his pen on his desk, the Professor gestured to the diagram.

"Origin," he requested.

There was a brief pause before a timid girl in the front raised her hand.

He nodded to her and she began to speak.

"Iran?" she asked.

"Was that a question or an answer?" the professor responded.

The girl turned lightly pink.

"More a hypothesis," she said.

The professor smiled at her.

"Good answer, and good hypothesis. This is indeed from Iran. I see you read the homework."

The girl smiled with relief and nodded.

The professor plunged into a lecture and explained the specific importance of the way the structure was created and what the key parts did for the appearance as the whole. Christine was desperately trying to keep up, but she knew she would have to review everything again from the textbook. Art history was not her thing.

 **Author's Note: To the beautiful guest who reviewed asking for the other chapters, I have yet to write further than this, but I am still working on it. I'm glad you liked the first chapter at least.**


	3. Old Friend

After class, Christine and Raoul met to catch up with each other.

They took a short walk to a little sandwich shop down the street and ordered lunch as they talked.

"So," began Christine, "what have you been up to since you joined the… Navy?" she asked, trying to nonchalantly brush her hair out with her fingers so he might not notice the tangles.

Raoul smiled.

"Yeah, it was the navy. I've been around. Not much conflict going on for me to be sent off anywhere dangerous, but I'm much more well traveled now," he said.

"Oh?" Christine asked, "What kind of places have you been to?"

Raoul shrugged dismissively.

"I've been to Brazil, Germany, China, Argentina, and a couple other places. I didn't spend much time in any of them and, before you ask, no, I don't speak the native languages of those places now. They were only short visits."

Christine nodded in understanding.

She had managed to make her hair look somewhat tame and really hoped Raoul hadn't noticed how bad it had been.

"What are you planning on doing now that you're back?" she asked.

Raoul shrugged and ran his hand through his own hair.

"I'm just taking some classes to figure out what works best for me. Philippe wants me to start looking for a job," he said.

Christine smiled.

"How's Philippe been? I haven't seen him since you left,"

Raoul rolled his eyes playfully.

"He's still a goody two shoes," he said, "I can't get away with anything around him."

They both laughed at that. Christine could remember Philippe always encouraging Raoul to do what's right and avoid even soiling his clothes. She couldn't remember a time he had ever broken a rule.

"Well, I recently got a job," Christine stated as she took a bit of her sandwich.

Raoul raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? And where would a little girl like you get a job around here?" he asked.

Christine stuck her tongue out at him for the comment.

"There's a little music shop a few blocks away. It's nice and I get to be around music all day," she told him casually.

Raoul grinned.

"Oh, I should have known. Where else would you want to work than somewhere with music?" he chided himself, "and what kind of work do you do there?"

"I just work the counter, helping people find things if they need it."

Raoul frowned slightly.

"Couldn't you give lessons or something?" he asked.

Christine shook her head.

"Lessons for what? I'm not a musician and I know so little about singing my teachers even gave up on me. The world is lucky I'm not trying to give lessons."

Raoul's frown grew at this.

"What was that about singing?" he asked, "You have the best voice I have ever heard. You had a teacher give up on you?"

Christine shrugged.

"I guess it's more about talent than voice," she stated flatly.

"I guess some voice teacher needs to be fired," Raoul retorted.

Christine frowned. "Please, don't talk about it anymore. I am moving on and I don't want it to keep coming up. I'm sorry I ever mentioned my voice teachers."

She stood up abruptly.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going home. I have a lot of studying to do and work tomorrow. Goodbye."

Raoul gave her a pitifully sad look as she turned, scooping up the rest of her meal, and began marching off. She hated him for being able to pull her heartstrings like that. He had always been able to make her feel guilty with a single look and the years in the navy had evidently done nothing to change that.

Christine stalked home, trying not to think about anything. She could feel the anxiety boiling up in her chest and she hoped she would be able to make it back to the flat.


	4. Waiting

Erik sat, with his office door cracked open so he could hear what was happening in the store. He hadn't been able to get that new girl out of his head. Something about her had made him want to be around her.

He prodded at his own mind. Why would he want to be around someone? He had never felt the desire to have company, especially from someone he had just met. He knew virtually nothing about her, yet he was anticipating her arrival with excitement.

He extended his left hand and retrieved a hex key from his desk drawer. He carefully adjusted the guitar on his desk.

He let his fingertips brush over the strings and test the tension. Over the years he had learned to tune them by feel more than sound, and he refrained from plucking the strings anyway for fear of missing the appearance of the sweet voice he was waiting for.

He paused as the bell rang at the opening of the door. He listened and heard the person shuffle slowly around to behind the desk. It did not sound like the cheerful girl he had met before, but it was certainly time for her shift to start. He wondered if she had become ill and had been unable to come.

He opened his door the rest of the way and tilted his head toward where the other could be heard moving around.

"Um, hello," he said awkwardly. He was unsure what he should say and hoped it was the sweet girl he was waiting for, but he feared it would not be.

"Oh, hello Erik," the voice responded.

He could tell it was indeed the same girl he had met earlier in the week, but she sounded upset. She didn't have the usual inflection that a smiling person would unconsciously have in their voice and she hadn't even turned his way fully. At most, she had glanced his way to find who was speaking before turning back to her work.

"Oh, it is you," he said without thinking. He winced at his hurried words that must have betrayed his anticipation.

Christine did turn to him this time.

"Yes, it is me. Who else would you expect?"

She said this with an attempt at friendly humor, but it was poorly executed and the distracted sadness was still evident.

Erik sheepishly responded.

"I, uh, I thought you may have fallen ill. It did not sound like you when you entered."

There was a short silence and Erik thought she must be looking him over.

"Well, I'm not sick, but thanks for the concern. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.

She sounded tired and Erik immediately regretted letting his tongue go and speak without properly thinking first.

"No, I'm sorry if I have upset you at all. I'll let you get back to your work now."

As he started retreating into his office to finish working on the guitar, he heard her speak up quietly, nearly a whisper.

"Wait,"

 **AN: the last chapter took so long because I didn't really like writing with Raoul. Thanks.**


	5. Meaning and Friendship

Erik was soon brewing them both some tea as the temperature in the store began to decrease due to the rain. Christine reclined in one of the more comfortable chairs in the front of the store and had her feet tucked up underneath her as she bundled herself up in her coat and scarf for more warmth.

When he returned, Erik carefully handed the cup to Christine, who took it gratefully. He then took his own seat near a table. He brushed his hand over the surface of the table to be sure it was clear before setting his own cup on it.

Christine took a sip before smiling and giving Erik a shy 'thank you'.

"No problem," he said, "I always make sure there is tea ready to be made for while I'm at work."

Christine nodded and looked out the window at the muted colors of the street.

"I am in a bit of an off mood today," she admitted, allowing her eyes to flick over to him. "I became a bit upset with my friend earlier."

Erik nodded, not commenting. He was silent so she could continue if she wished.

"He just came back from out of the country and I was hoping to talk about his travels, but he found out about my voice teachers," she said with a tone of distress, "He, of course, felt the need to become angry about it, but I just don't want to talk with him about it."

Erik nodded again. He was sitting forward in his chair.

"I understand," he said. He seemed as if he was going to say something else, but decided against it.

"I mean, I was probably going to tell him about it eventually, but I was not in the mood for it today. I wanted to talk about happy things and find out what he'd been up to. Now I just feel guilty for snapping at him and leaving him after. He always manages to make me feel guilty and I really just did not need that today,"

Christine had a bit of a tremble in her voice as she spoke. She wasn't near tears, but more that she was just confused about what she was feeling. She was scared she had hurt her friend and she was sad she had failed her hope of being a singer and she was angry he had tried to talk about it when she didn't want to.

Erik had an empathetic frown on his face and Christine smiled.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I hardly know you and now I'm telling you about all my problems," she said.

Erik shrugged.

"I suppose it's because I'm here," he offered, "You needed to talk through it and I just happened to be the one around when you did."

Christine looked back out the window with a frown.

"But, the strangest part, for me, is that I'm mostly just ashamed," she said, "I didn't want him to know I had failed at what he thought me best at. I can't sing well enough for a teacher to help me and I didn't want him to know. He has always told me I would be amazing some day, and I feel I've let him down."

Erik nodded again.

"That's understandable," he remarked, "You had tied your identity to your ability to sing so much that the thought of that being untrue makes you question your very existence."

Christine studied Erik for a moment. What he had just said made so much sense and she wondered why she had not realized what had been going on earlier. How had a complete stranger been able to understand her own mind better than her after only a few moments of conversation?

"I think that must be exactly it," she said, "I cannot figure out how I did not see it earlier, but your explanation is exactly how I feel."

Erik shrugged.

"You may have just been too close to the problem to see clearly," he said.

Christine thought this too was most likely true and she smiled. A wave of relief came over her as she finally understood how she was feeling.

"Erik, thank you so much," she said, "I feel so relieved now that I understand. Thank you for listening and helping me."

Erik smiled in return to her words.

"It was my pleasure. I can tell you are feeling better by the tone of your voice. I will always be glad to help you."

As Christine began to respond, the bell rang as the door opened and a man in a raincoat stepped in. Christine sighed and stood to greet him.

Erik leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers as Christine left him.

"Good afternoon," Christine hurried to say to the man, "How can I help you today?"

The man pulled the hood of his coat back and Christine squealed with delight.

"Philippe!" she exclaimed, "I didn't know you were still in town."

Philippe smiled and removed his coat.

"Yeah, you haven't gotten rid of me just yet," he joked, "I just came back to see my little brother now that he's back in the country. I heard you already had quite the conversation since his return."

Christine let out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, I has in a bit of a mood and he always manages to get a reaction out of me. I hope he's not upset."

Philippe shrugged.

"Oh, you know him. He's surprisingly emotional for someone just out of the navy. He's gotten it into his head that he just insulted you and ruined his own life because you hate him," he paused at Christine's horrified face. "Understand, none of this is your fault. He needs a reality check now and then and you were the one who needed to serve it to him this time."

Christine frowned and hung her head.

"I know. I just don't want him to be upset with me."

Philippe put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

"Trust me. He holds nothing against you and the moment he does, I'll knock some sense into him," he finished with a wink.

Christine smiled and turned to introduce Philippe to her new coworker, but noticed Erik had managed to slip back into his office while they had talked. She turned to see that his office door was fully closed and she could hear the slight plucking of guitar strings from behind it.

She assumed he had gone back to his work and turned back to Philippe.

"So, just checking up on me, or did you actually want something from the store?" she asked.

Philippe laughed.

"Actually, I was hoping to find something very special for my little brother."


	6. Cursed

Erik switched his radio on and his favorite station immediately sprang to life. He sighed with joy as Turandot played and he began shedding his coat. He had not wanted to eavesdrop on Christine, but it was difficult as their conversation had been the only sound in the entire store.

He remembered with a smile how she had wished not to cause her friend any pain. Erik knew her friend was clearly at fault, but she had the heart to wish him well despite that. She truly had a lovely spirit.

Erik was having an especially good day since he had been able to talk to her. He was satisfied with his ability to help her feel better and hoped she would talk with him more often now.

Erik walked over to one of his couches and sat down to listen to the opera. He carefully removed his mask and breathed deeply. The mask was not uncomfortable, but it gave him a claustrophobic feeling after a while.

He placed it gently onto the side table and leaned his head to rest it on the back of the couch. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he bagan dozing off. He sat back up and rubbed his face to wake himself back up. If he slept now, he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

He walked over to the radio and turned it off just as Turandot began asking her final riddle. He then sat at the piano and began playing. He was just playing random notes at first, making an unusual, but still pleasant sound. He eventually fell into a familiar melody and his hands skipped over the keys, each finding their places from memory and he smiled at the sound.

As he played, he thought about what had happened so far in his day and remembered how Christine had sounded when her friend had come to the store. She had been so happy to see him. Erik felt selfish for wanting her to someday be that excited to see him.

He had only known the girl for a few days and he was already imagining them being that close someday. He needed to stop.

Erik cringed as he missed a note and he set his hands on the keys, letting the cacophony of noise fill his ears. He lifted his hands and let the sound die.

She was being a distraction to him.

What was wrong with him? He had never let anything distract him before and now, out of the blue, a girl shows up and he's all clumsiness and a fool.

Erik took a breath and began the piece again. He wanted to finish it well before taking a break.

As he played, re noticed his own apathy in his work. He could hear the difference now that he was playing it deliberately instead of simply because he had begun it. There was no soul in the music anymore and he frowned at himself.

Erik stood after completing the piece and walked to his kitchen. He began fixing himself some tea and a bit of bread with butter.

He sat back down on the couch with his food and with the radio turned on again. He ate slowly as he listened to the remaining part of the opera.

 _Erik was playing with his puppy in the yard as his mother watched them. He tossed a stick and waited for her to bound up and lick his hand to let him know she was back. He would pet her and praise her before hurling the stick again. He was grinning widely and could smell freshly cut grass._

 _He heard the chair on the front porch creak as his mother got up._

 _"_ _Erik, time to come in," she called softly._

 _Erik nodded and wrapped his hand to the inside of Sasha's collar as she began to lead him inside. Erik removed his mask. He hated wearing it. It hurt his face and made him feel like he couldn't breathe._

 _He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath when she turned toward him._

 _"_ _Erik, put your mask back on," she said sternly._

 _"_ _But mother," Erik tried weakly, "No one will see me inside. I don't like the mask. Please don't make me wear it inside."_

 _Despite his pleas, he felt the mask being placed firmly back on his face. Tears filled his eyes. He felt a slight pang of sadness that his stupid self wasn't even hindered by the tears blurring his vision._

 _"_ _Mother," he whimpered one last time._

 _The sound of a thousand voices responded in unison._

 _"_ _You dare to disobey?" the legion of voices asked calmly, "after all you've done?"_

 _Erik began to panic. He snapped his fingers for Sasha to come back to him. She didn't come._

 _"_ _I-I didn't do anything," he said shakily._

 _"_ _You make your own mother live in exile," the voice said with growing volume, "it would have been better had you died at birth."_

 _Tears were streaming freely down his face now and he gave up talking to the voices._

 _He collapsed to the floor and began to call for Sasha. She didn't come or respond as she always did. He crawled around, feeling for her as he called._

 _The voices pelted him with more and more anger in the multitude of harsh voices. He could identify the voices of every person he had ever met._

 _His mother, the pastor, his tutor, the village boys he had heard outside his window once, every person who had ever rejected him. Everyone he had ever struck with fear._

 _"_ _Sasha, Sasha, Sasha" he choked and sobbed. He came to the table she loved to sleep under. He swept his hands over the floor in search of his only friend._

 _He froze when he felt her soft fur. She was unmoving and cold._

 _He regained movement and swept her up in his arms. He could feel a thick, sticky substance in her fur. It was covering his hands and it seeped into his clothes._

 _His breath left him completely. Sasha was limp in his arms and he buried his head in her fur and cried._

 _"_ _You don't deserve love," said the voices, "You are the one to blame for this death. You were careless. You will never be able to be loved."_

 _Erik screamed in agony._

He sat bolt upright in bed. His entire body was cold.

He pressed his shaking hands together to calm them. He turned and clumsily fumbled to turn his radio on. It sprang to life and a piece of Mozart played calmly into the room.

Erik pulled his knees up to his chest and began choking with sobs.


	7. Helping Hands

Christine sipped her tea as she quickly finished typing a paper on her laptop. She groaned inwardly. She was not satisfied with the result, but it would have to do for now.

She flipped the computer shut and slid it into her bag.

Pulling the strap over her shoulder and simultaneously taking another long sip of her tea, Christine stood and began walking out the door of the flat.

"I'm off to work," she called to Meg.

Hearing a sound of acknowledgement from her flatmate, Christine went out and shut the door.

When she arrived at the music shop, the bell rang softly as the door opened. She saw Erik sitting in one of the chairs by the window. She smiled, remembering their conversation last time.

Erik's head turned at her entrance, angling his head to hear her better.

"Good morning, Erik," she greeted cheerfully. She noticed he was frowning and, to her dismay, the frown deepened at her salutation.

She wondered what she might have done that could upset him. She didn't think she had been rude last time they spoke.

She took her station behind the counter and took a brown paper bag from her pack. She found a small bowl on a shelf under the counter and poured the contents of the bag into it. The small chocolates and candies nestled gently into their new place.

Moving the bowl to the front of the counter, Christine began organizing things on the shelves.

As she worked, Christine noticed Erik getting up in her peripheral vision. He stood and walked to his office in the back. He hesitated at the door, as if he was considering something, before he closed the door, save for a small gap he left.

Christine continued her work and awaited any customers.

After a while, Christine became bored and pulled her laptop back out of her bag. Flipping it back open, she read over her paper again.

As she typed and edited, Christine was aware of Erik working in his office behind her. She could hear him tuning various string instruments and occasionally he would stop abruptly to tighten or loosen a string.

The bell rang and Christine quickly snapped her computer shut and looked up.

A small girl and a woman had walked in together. The older seemed to be the girl's mother, and the girl was shying behind her.

They walked up to the counter and Christine greeted them with a bright smile.

"Good morning," she chirped, "How can I help you?"

The mother gave her a somewhat apologetic and exasperated look. She tried to coax the girl out from behind her, but she was largely unsuccessful.

"My daughter is looking for something, but I have no idea what. I've been trying to get her to ask herself, but she's a bit shy."

The woman seemed a bit sheepish at this confession.

Christine gave her a soft smile and came out from behind the counter. She kneeled next to the girl and spoke softly.

"Hi," she said, "What's your name?"

The girl stepped back behind her mother so she was just peeking out at Christine.

The mother shook her head.

"Abigail," she said.

"Hey, Abigail," Christine ventured again, "do you like candy?"

The girl glanced up at her mother before nodding.

Christine plucked the candy bowl from the counter and offered it to the girl. She shook it slightly, mixing the candies around and attempting to entice the girl.

"You can have any kind you want," she offered.

The girl moved out from behind her mother a bit to retrieve a candy. She quietly unwrapped it and placed it on her tongue. She seemed afraid to make any fast movements or make any sound at all.

Christine sat with her legs crossed on the floor in front of the girl. She placed the bowl on the floor and offered the spot next to her to the girl.

Abigail hesitantly took a seat next to Christine, chewing her candy slowly.

"So," Christine began gently, "Abigail, do you play an instrument?"

The girl nodded, swallowing her candy. Her large, brown eyes studying Christine.

"I play the violin," she whispered.

Christine grinned.

"Oh, I love those. My father used to play to me and he was amazing. I loved listening to him play. What kind of music do you like to play?"

Abigail thought for a moment.

"I like classical, like Mozart," she responded, her voice growing slightly in volume.

Christine nodded.

"My father used to love that. Classical pieces are beautiful."

Abigail nodded.

Christine decided it was time to get to business. "What did you come in for today?" she asked.

Abigail glanced at her mother, turning slightly pink as if she was remembering her shyness.

"My mum doesn't know much about violins," she confessed, "I need some more rosin and a new D string."

Christine nodded.

"Okay. I think I know who you need to talk to. I don't know that much about them either and I'm new here, so we'll need some help."

Christine took Abigail's hand and led her to the door in the back of the store. She knocked lightly and the door immediately opened.

Erik was standing with a very slight smile on his face when Christine saw him.

"Hello, Erik," she said, "I'm not sure where to find what this little musician needs. I was hoping you could help. I don't know much about rosin or violin strings, so I figured you would be the best person to ask."

Erik nodded. He left his office and walked along the back wall until he reached a shelf with boxes of rosin.

Taking one in his hand, he turned to the girl.

"What kind of violin do you have? Is it light colored, or dark colored?"

Abigail began describing her violin and Erik listened in silence. He ran his hand along different boxes and finally plucked one from the shelf. He held it out sharply, stating the qualities of the specific rosin he was suggesting and telling them why this was the one she needed.

As Abigail's mother cautiously stepped forward to take the box from him, Erik pulled something from one of his pockets, offering it to her as well.

"And this is the string you need," he stated, "I assume the girl knows how to replace a string?"

The girl shrank back and shakily nodded.

Christine was stunned at this interaction. She had not expected Erik to act this way, but she had never seen him interact with customers before. She felt guilty for setting him on them like this and she could see the progress she had made with the girl becoming ineffective the more he spoke.

"Erik," Christine said, "I need to talk to you."

She snatched the sleeve of his blazer and half dragged him to his own office.

When he stopped looking slightly stunned, Erik straightened up and waited for her to begin speaking.

"Erik. What in the world are you doing?" she asked incredulously, "This girl is extremely shy and you're making her scared. She isn't ever going to want to talk again. I had to coax her out of her own shell and now all that work is ruined. Do you have the ability to be tactful?"

Erik was once again stunned.

"Uh, um, I-I," he stammered. He felt his face heat up as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

Christine sighed.

"Erik, from now on, I am going to need you to train me on where things are here and what's best for the instruments because you absolutely cannot deal with the younger customers. Please let me take care of the rest of this one."

Christine didn't wait for him to respond. She marched back to the two customers and began chatting with them. She tried to get the girl to open up again, but Erik could tell she was having little luck.

He felt ashamed that he had been so rude. He had known the situation and he had still kept his formal attitude with the girl. He had been recklessly insensitive and, to make it worse, he had done it in front of Christine.

He stopped himself at the last thought.

 _Oh goodness. Now you're letting her decide how you act? You still don't even know her._

Erik went back into his office, shutting the door fully behind him this time. He was going to shut the world out for a bit to clear his head.

Picking up his own violin, Erik began playing the first song that came to his mind.

Possibly because he had overheard the girl earlier, the tune happened to be one of Mozart's.

He allowed his body to move with the sound, slowly swaying with the melody.

Christine saw the girl visibly perk up upon hearing the music. She turned slightly towards the source.

Christine smiled.

"Abigail, I think that's Erik's way of saying he's sorry," she said, "He's not very good with words, but he understands music."

Abigail turned back to Christine with a look in her eye that showed her deep admiration for the musician who could produce such a sound. Christine could tell from that moment on that the girl was going to work with all her might so she would be able to play the violin that well.

After the transaction was complete and the girl was on her way with her mother, Christine felt a bit ashamed she had spoken to Erik in such a way.

She walked quietly to the back of the store and approached the door to his office.

As she did this, the tune of the music changed and began playing a song she was much more familiar with. Her father had played this song to her many times and it was one of her favorites to sing.

 _How does he always seem to know what to play?_ She wondered. She could not bring herself to knock and interrupt the song, but she leaned against the wall next to the door and began quietly singing along with it.

Initially, Erik did not seem to notice, but when her voice grew in volume, she heard a slight faltering in the notes. He didn't play it incorrectly, but there was a wavering for a moment as if he was unsure of what to do.

As the music continued, Christine sang. She filled the store with the music and she felt something stir in her chest that she had not felt for years. She was genuinely enjoying singing in this moment, she realized. For so long, she had made singing a chore so she no longer wished for it.

In that moment, everything was perfect. The violin and Christine were in perfect harmony with each other and time seemed to stop.


	8. Curse this Heart

Erik felt his chest ache as he finished the song. It had never crossed his mind that she would sing along with the violin now. He could not fathom what was happening to him at this moment.

He felt his throat constricting and his breathing being cut short. His heart was pounding as he placed the violin back on his desk. His mouth was dry and his hands began shaking.

Pressing his palms together to stop the trembling, Erik listened intently to what Christine would do next.

She stood in silence, just outside his door for another minute. Erik was unintentionally holding his breath in anticipation of what she might say.

After the pause, Christine walked quietly away from the door and Erik let his breath out.

Trembling all over, Erik sat in his chair and leaned back his head.

Why was he shaking? It was only a simple song. A mere country melody at that. Nothing grand, moving, or special. Why was he reacting in this way?

 _Curse this girl for being able to make me feel this way._ He thought to himself. _I should have been better off never having met her if this is how I feel when I know her._

Despite his reasoning, Erik could not convince himself that anything would be better without her. In his mind, he knew he was slowly falling in love with her, but he could not convince himself of it.

 _Even if I love her,_ he thought, _it will do me no good. She is perfection and I am a fool and an outcast. I have no right to love her._

Even after this thought process, Erik felt his face grow warm and a smile pull at the corners of his mouth as he remembered how kind she was to everyone. She had been kind to him having just met, and did everything in her power to make the girl comfortable and happy earlier. She had brought candy in for the children and Erik could not remember ever having met someone who had been so genuinely kind.

Erik did not know what to do with himself as he remembered Christine. He felt out of place, as if he had not been meant to know her. It was as if the universe had forbidden them from meeting, and yet he was a part of her life, and she his.

He could almost feel her presence on the other side of the door. He knew she was just out there, working and being her perfect self.

He was tempted to pick the instrument back up and play something to clear his head, but thought better of it. If she began singing again, he would have only muddled his mind all the more. He would have to wait until he made it home to fully sort his thoughts.

Christine knew her face was red from embarrassment and frustration as she worked. She had fully intended to say something, anything, to him after he had finished the song. When the moment came, her voice was gone. She could not make herself say a word to the man behind the door.

She wiped a few tears from her eyes as she began shuffling things around on shelves. The memory of her father still had a sting after so long and the song he played for her had thoughts of him racing through her head.

Snow.

There was snow on the ground as she skipped down the road. Christine hummed along to her father playing the violin close behind her as she twirled through the falling flakes. As they walked to the nearest store, she let her blonde curls bob around her face. Her scarf was bundled around her neck and she was wearing her favorite boots. The snow slid and crunched under her small feet.

Apples.

The apple blossoms dropped petals around her as Christine cried. She sobbed and choked with her head buried in her arms. She refused to turn her head at the sound of a soft rustle in the grass beside her. She knew the steps were her father's and he knelt down beside her.

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing," her father began to whisper with a gentle smile in his voice. "Like a butterfly she flew about in the golden sun. In her golden curls she wore the crown of spring. And her gaze was like the heavens, so bright, blue and clear."

Christine couldn't stop a small smile from tugging at her mouth at the words of one of her favorite poems. Her sniffing quieted down a bit. She became acutely aware of the grass under her feet and the smell of the apple blossoms. She felt the warm sun on her freckled arms.

With a sigh, Christine tipped her head back against the trunk of the tree. She was over the trivial argument with the other child. Her father always knew what to say when she was upset.

The fire crackled in the hearth to her left.

Christine snuggled into her quilt and tapped her little stockinged feet on the floor. Her father had yet to return from the store with the medicine she needed. In his absence, Christine hummed a country song to herself. Her forehead was covered in sweat and she shivered with a deep chill.

The door opened with a gust of cold wind and a flurry of coughing from her father as he bustled in with his arms full of groceries.

Kicking the door closed behind him, her father carefully set the grocery bags down on the floor before coming closer to Christine. He knelt beside her and put his palm to her forehead.

She shivered at his cold touch, but it seemed to pull some of the ache out of her head. She closed her feverish eyes and laid back in the soft armchair. Her eyes seemed to be burning her eyelids, but she could not keep them opened. Her father pulled the blankets closer around her shoulders, tucking them under her chin, and moved to pick up the bags and bring them into the kitchen.

Christine drifted in and out of a daze for a few minutes, only half aware of her father moving around in the kitchen and the warm smell of fresh soup as it cooked. She obediently let her father pour some sour liquid into her mouth and tiredly swallowed it before falling back asleep.

Christine woke up an hour later to the gentle tapping of her father on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see a steaming bowl of soup he was holding in front of her.

Christine shook the images from her mind and tried to continue working. Something dripped onto the counter and she realized her face was wet. She wiped the tears from her eyes and brushed the liquid off of the counter.

Looking around and not seeing anyone other than herself in the store, Christine took a shaky breath and sat in one of the soft chairs by the window.

 **Author's Note: Hey, sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. Life has been crazy for me, but I hope you still enjoy it.**


	9. Interesting

Erik was surprised to hear the doorbell. He very rarely had any visitors and usually tried to avoid inviting anyone over.

Walking to the door, he could hear a quiet cough and recognized it immediately.

"Daroga," he said flatly as the door swung open.

This was met with a laugh from his old acquaintance.

"Erik, daroga is a very old term for a job I no longer have. You should know that as well as any," Nadir chided for what felt to him like the millionth time.

With a small smile to his voice, Erik responded.

"I suppose I'm just an old soul."

Nadir made a grunt of agreement as Erik felt his gaze sweep over his house.

"And what gives me the pleasure of your visit today?" Erik questioned before Nadir could make fun of his decor or something.

"I heard you were in town and it has been quite a while since we last talked," Nadir offered.

With a smirk, Erik walked back to his violin and plucked it off the table. He rested it under his chin and began playing a simple melody.

When he tilted his head a bit, he realized he was not wearing his mask. He stopped playing abruptly and turned to his old friend.

"My apologies, Daroga. I hadn't expected any visitors."

In his flustered state, he felt around on the table for his mask so he could replace it. He bit his lip hard and felt his cheeks growing hot with frustration as his fingers found nothing but the table.

"Erik," Nadir snapped, "I have seen your face before. I don't mind. Don't send yourself into hysterics over the mask."

Erik stopped his hand and bowed his head.

"If it's that much of a concern for you, the mask is on the piano," Nadir said softly.

Erik slowly walked over and placed the mask back onto his face.

"I know you have seen my face, Daroga," Erik said, "But it has a reputation for making people like me less than they do from just knowing me. My personality isn't exactly endearing either."

Nadir sat on the couch and bid Erik do the same. He had no intention of having that conversation again. He hadn't come to hear Erik wallow in self-pity.

"So, how exactly did you come to know I was in town?" Erik asked curiously.

"Ah, yes. A student of mine happened to mention a masked man working in a music shop and it sounded remarkably familiar."

Raoul nibbled on one of the cookies Meg had already pulled from the oven as he listened to her talk about everything she could possibly think of to say.

Christine watched in amusement from the chair opposite of him. He was clearly bored, but much too polite to say so. He also was not overly fond of the cookies he had been offered, but needed something to occupy himself with, so had taken to eating them as slowly as possible to pass the time.

Raoul would give Christine a pleading look when Meg had her back turned, as if begging her to end his suffering. Christine would smile in response and do absolutely nothing to stop her flatmate from going on about whatever new ghost story she was convinced of.

"And then he said the headless girl appeared in front of him and called his name, reaching out for him, she stumbled toward him with blood dripping from her neck and covering her nightgown before-"

"Okay," Christine interrupted finally, "The story truly is riveting, Meg, but Raoul wanted me to show him something and I think it's getting a bit late, so we should be going."

Meg frowned. "I could come with you?" she offered.

Christine shook her head as she stood. "He will have to come over some other time to hear the rest of the story," she said.

Raoul stood so quickly he nearly tipped his chair over and grinned at the girls.

"Ah, yes, thank you for the very interesting conversation, Meg, but we really should be on our way," he said.

They quickly bid Meg goodbye and Raoul nearly pulled Christine out the door.

When they were almost a block a away, Christine began giggling to herself.

Raoul turned red with embarrassment and frustration.

"What do you think is so funny?" he demanded, "I was beginning to hope she had accidentally poisoned the cookies so I could escape."

This made Christine's laughter become more audible as she burst into a fit of loud laughs. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen as it began to ache. Tears of laughter were gathering in her eyes and she wiped them away.

"It made my day to see you in complete dismay at Meg's prattling," she admitted giddily, "I have to live with it day and night and I almost forgot how annoying it can be before you gave me the perfect reaction to remind me."

Raoul pouted, sticking out his tongue and folding his arms to face away from her.

Christine felt absolutely no remorse, but apologized so he might stop pretending to be so mad at her.

After having made playful amends, Christine and Raoul continued to chat away as they came closer to their destination.

Entering through the door, Christine smiled at the happy jingle of the bell. She had come to really enjoy hearing that sound as it meant company, either from customers or otherwise from her eccentric coworker, both of which she enjoyed greatly.

Despite her expectancy for company, Christine found her usual co worker absent and a tired looking young man in her usual place behind the counter. She had only really half expected to see Erik there, but was still slightly stunned at finding he was not.

Turning to face her companion, Christine was a bit annoyed at seeing his unimpressed expression.

"You… work here?" He asked with a tone of disappointment.

Christine raised an eyebrow at her friend.

"Uh, yes. This is the music shop I work in. It is adorably quaint, is it not?" she replied hopefully.

Raoul shrugged.

"I suppose I was expecting something a bit, uh, larger? Or perhaps nicer?" He said, as if prodding her.

Christine glanced around. It's true, it wasn't anything very grand or elegant, but she had come to find it was a comfortable place, almost like a second home for her. She found that the longer she worked there, the more every little thing in the shop became endearing to her.

Christine was a bit irked at Raoul's presumptiveness, but led him over to the comfortable armchairs by the window.

Sitting and eagerly gazing out the window, Christine began telling her old friend about how this was a perfect vantage point to watch the weather and passerbys. Raoul seemed entertained as she spoke, but never gave any indication of being impressed or excited.

In her attempt to fill the silence and distract herself from her own annoyance, Christine began rambling.

"I once saw a woman walking three huge dogs down the street at once. It was an amusing sight. While I was talking with Erik the other day, I thought I might look for another voice coach-"

"What?" Raoul interrupted.

"Huh? Oh. I was thinking of finding a new voice coach?" Christine responded hesitantly. She had not meant to tell anyone that she had been thinking about that yet. She had wanted to talk to Erik a bit more about it before she actually made a decision.

"That's fantastic!" Raoul beamed, "I would be glad to help you find the very best one as soon as possible. You should only have the best."

Christine's smile wavered.

"Oh," she said, "I actually have a friend who I think would be able to help me find a good one in my price range."

Christine blushed a little at the thought of her tight budget.

Raoul scoffed.

"Who cares about a price range?" he said, "You need to have the very best training, no matter the cost."

Christine's cheeks burned and her ears grew warm.

"No," she stated coldly.

Raoul frowned.

"What?" he asked.

Christine took a breath.

"I said, no. I want to make the decision independently of you. You have always been able to convince me to go through with things though I would choose differently and I want you to stop," she said quietly, "I can do this without you."

Raoul blinked and furrowed his brow.

"Christine, I never meant to force you into anything. I want what's best for you. You know that. Please let me help you," he pled.

Christine shook her head.

"Raoul, you have known me my whole life, just about, and I appreciate that you want to help, but you don't understand what I need, so let me do this on my own."

Releasing her breath, Christine relaxed. She had been meaning to tell him this for years, but she had felt too guilty.

Raoul stood abruptly.

"I see," he said, "that I am not wanted. I had thought I would help you in anything you wanted to do for your entire life. I had hoped to stay by your side indefinitely, but I see you do not wish it."

Walking toward the door, Raoul was followed by a startled Christine.

"What do you mean, Raoul? That you had wished to stay by my side?" She cried as they walked briskly down the road.

Raoul snapped around.

"I love you!" he all but shouted.

Christine stood, frozen in her place.

After taking a breath, Raoul continued.

"I love you, Christine. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought you felt the same way, but I guess I "don't understand what you need", so it wouldn't work out."

Christine gaped at him. She could not move or speak and her mind seemed to stop working altogether.

Raoul shook his head and walked away as Christine stood, frozen to the spot.


	10. Decisions

Meg was getting tired of Christine not speaking. When she had returned from the walk with Raoul, she had simply said she felt ill and had gone to bed.

Meg had made her soup and offered her any aid she could, but Christine had not spoken once since that first day. It had been several days now and she was tired of eating the leftover soup as well.

With a sigh, Meg carried yet another bowl of soup to Christine's room.

She nearly dropped the bowl when Christine emerged.

"Oh," she said, "Are you feeling better, Christine? I was just bringing you another bowl of soup for lunch if you want it."

Christine smiled softly and shook her head.

"No thank you, Meg. I think I have had quite enough soup for the rest of my life. Thank you. I have to leave for my next shift in a few minutes and was just getting ready."

Meg raised an eyebrow at her pale flatmate. It was clear she was not fully well yet, but Meg much preferred this state to the silent and inactive one from before.

Hastily cleaning up the drips of soup from off her jeans, Meg followed Christine into the main area of the flat. Christine pulled a paper bag out of the cupboard before putting on her coat and scarf. Meg noticed the scarf was wrapped a bit differently than usual. She had gathered it about her throat as if she had a bad cold.

Christine was out the door before Meg could say another word and she was left to eat the soup by herself.

Sitting down at the table, Meg sighed and reluctantly lifted the spoon. She refused to waste any food.

Erik wasn't sure if he should ask Christine about how she had come to know the Daroga, but he was curious enough he knew it would do no good for him to decide not to bring it up.

He had never bothered to wish he could see until this moment. He found himself worrying over his appearance more than was probably necessary, despite the fact he could never know if he was improving it or making it worse.

Cursing himself for being so distractible, Erik resolved to stop fussing over himself and at least try to be tactful when engaging in conversation with her.

He heard her enter the shop and pause for a moment, just inside the door. She let out a sigh as if she had just returned home after a stressful day. She made her way behind the counter and Erik heard the sharp crinkle of a paper bag, followed by repeated tapping as she poured small objects into a glass bowl.

She hummed a bit as she slid the bowl to where she wanted it. Erik recognized the tune, but the title of the piece escaped him at the moment.

Christine turned slightly when she heard the door open behind her. She knew it was Erik and she smiled slightly.

When he didn't come out more than a few feet and just shuffled his feet a bit, Christine turned to fully face him.

She briefly noticed he was wearing a hat today. It was black, to match his blazer, and it actually helped to draw the eye away from his mask.

He absently tugged at the collar of his shirt, which had the top two buttons undone.

Clearing his throat, Erik tilted his head to more fully face her, though he kept it angled slightly away from her as if he was embarrassed.

"So," he finally spoke, "I hear you're taking an art history class at the university in town."

Christine furrowed her brow and smiled curiously.

"Uh, yeah. I am. I'm just trying to get the credits I need to have a good job," she began, "but I think I might have to change my career plans."

Erik nodded understandingly.

"But, Uh, where did you hear that?" she asked.

Erik smiled,

"Oh, an old… friend mentioned you," he said carefully.

"Really?" Christine asked quizzically, "Who's your friend? Would I know them?"

Erik smiled and his head rolled slightly, in a naturally amused way.

"I would certainly hope you know your own professor," he stated.

Christine laughed.

"Oh! You know professor Khan?" she asked, amused.

"Yes. We were a sort of colleague, once upon a time. He knows me better than anyone, I daresay. What do you think of him as a teacher? Is he very stuffy and boring?" Erik asked with a mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Why don't you sit down while we talk?" Christine asked, "I have a bit of work I still need to do, and I should be at the counter in case anyone were to come in, but you need not be uncomfortable."

Erik obliged, though it seemed more out of courtesy than desire.

"Professor Khan is very good at what he does," Christine commented, "I am not good at remembering what he says at all, but that's more my fault than his. The other students seem to like him and I know for sure that at least one of them is doing well a the moment in his class."

Erik smiled and nodded.

"How do you know for sure that the one is doing well?" he asked.

Christine cringed. She hadn't meant to mention Raoul. She had wanted to get him out of her mind for a bit.

"Oh, uh, my… friend, is in the class with me. He excels at everything."

The slight bitter edge to her voice might have given something away, because Erik's smile faltered and he seemed a bit more solemn than before.

"Anyway," Christine continued, "I was actually hoping to talk to you today. I have been thinking of trying to sing again, but I need a good teacher who's in my budget. Know anyone?"

Erik seemed to buy this abrupt change of topic and considered for a moment.

Erik's heart was racing. He knew he could help her. He had never taught anyone before, but his mind raced with reasons he would do brilliantly. He had always been good at anything to do with music and he knew he would be just as good at this.

Biting the inside of his lower lip, Erik began having anxious thoughts.

She would probably think it was creepy if he randomly offered to 'privately tutor' her. She would probably think he was a complete stalker or something and want to never speak to him again. He could turn her away from music altogether if he messed this up.

But, he would never charge her a penny, and she was only a university student at the time. She could use the money. She could use a good teacher as well. He knew of her potential, and she could only benefit from finding a good voice coach.

After what seemed like a lifetime to Erik, but was probably only a slight pause, he made up his mind.

"Okay," He said, raising a hand defensively, "Please don't think this is creepy or anything, I just want to help. I may be able to coach you."

Erik held his breath, but tried to look collected.

Christine didn't say anything for a moment.

"How much?" she all but whispered.

Erik's thoughts soared with ideas of how she would sound after some more training and the rush of happiness he had from just her considering the offer made him nearly forget to respond.

"Oh, don't worry. I understand the struggle as a university student. I won't charge you anything. It would be a pleasure for me to be any help to you."

Christine let out a breath.

"I can't do that," she said, "I'd be taking advantage of you."

Erik shook his head.

"I simply refuse to accept any money you offer for my services. The only thing that could make me happy right now is the thought of being able to help you become what I know you can be," he said.

Erik paused for a moment, having the feeling he had just become more intense than he had initially planned. He waited for her response.

Christine laughed, and for the first time, it seemed to be her true, unburdened laugh. Erik thought is nearly melodic.

"Alright then," she said, "it's a deal. Just say when and where and I'd be happy to take you up on your offer."

Erik smiled and felt his face grow warm with joy under the mask.


	11. Working on It

Christine shifted in her seat as she waited. Raoul was supposed to have arrived nearly fifteen minutes ago and she was getting nervous that he had decided not to show. She tapped her foot and glanced around.

The outside patio area of the cafe was sparsely populated, seeing as the weather was just beginning to warm up. The sky was shrouded by a layer of clouds that made everyone squint involuntarily.

Sipping her warm drink, Christine tried to put away the thoughts of Raoul being so upset with her that he decided to stop talking to her. She knew he wouldn't do that. He was a very sentimental sort of person, and would rather have her as just a friend, if she decided not to marry him, than cut off all interaction.

Christine turned at the sound of hurried footsteps coming up to her left.

She saw Raoul rushing up to the table looking a bit more disheveled than she had seen him before. His hair seemed to have been done, but looked as if a bad gust of wind had tousled it up a bit. His jacket was slightly askew, only halfway on his right shoulder, and he frequently rubbed his small moustache with his index finger and thumb, as if nervously.

Sitting across from her, Raoul tried to fix his appearance, smoothing his hair and adjusting his jacket slightly.

Smiling fondly, Christine greeted him.

"Good morning, Raoul," she said cheerfully.

Her companion nodded, without speaking for another moment as he buttoned up his coat with a shiver.

"My apologies," he offered, "I got caught up in an incident of some sort which delayed my coming on time."

Christine waved this away dismissively and decided she must immediately get to the subject of their meeting.

"Raoul," she said, gazing into his face so she might detect the amount of sincerity in his response, "did you mean what you said the other day?"

Raoul turned a slight shade of red and avoided making eye contact. He cleared his throat several times before responding.

"I had not intended to blurt it out like a fool, but I was honest with you in that moment, as I always have been."

Christine could tell he meant it. She knew now what she had to say, but feared he would be upset.

"My dearest Raoul," she began.

Raoul's eyes sparked at her words and she worried she had possibly given him the wrong impression.

"I hope you will understand when I say that, I am not sure at this time how I feel for you. You are my closest friend, and at times I thought I might love you, but I cannot marry you at this time in my life. I will need to think about it."

At her words, Raoul leaned forward onto the table, as if holding himself up. He stared into nothing while his breathing became slightly more audible.

"Christine," he said, as though it was difficult to speak, "I love you more than anything and would do anything for you. I understand that you must think about my proposal before accepting, but, I beg you, please accept it in the end."

His voice held so much emotion it made Christine question whether she was doing the right thing. She didn't want to hurt him, but she clearly did not have the same feelings towards him as he did for her.

Christine nervously knocked on the door and had a moment of panic as she wondered if the had the right address. The door swung open and Christine was relieved to see Erik. He smiled and ushered her inside.

Looking about her, Christine saw one of the most beautiful houses she had ever seen. The main design of the house was fashioned around dark woods and Christine noticed there were various instruments, rather strewn around on the furniture. The couches and armchairs were made of a dark, maroon, velvety fabric, and the light fixtures and lamps were golden.

Erik offered to take her jacket and Christine blushed. She hadn't met many people who still asked for their guests coats. She handed her windbreaker to him and he placed it on a coat rack in one smooth, natural motion.

Completing his turn and facing the center of the room, Erik rolled his shoulders back in an almost unconscious motion. He was wearing a dress shirt and a suit vest, which Christine thought a bit strange, as he wasn't at work or in a professional setting at all, but she brushed it off for the time being.

Erik approached the grand piano and sat naturally at the keys.

"If you would be so kind as to stand at my two o'clock," he said, "That would be ideal. If you require sheet music, you will have to bring it in the future, as I have no use for it."

Christine tried to settle her nerves, as his tone of certainty made her feel less sure of herself. She positioned herself as well as she could to the right of him, next to the piano. She reflexively smoothed her curls down on the back of her head and stood straighter.

Erik folded his hands in his lap and addressed her.

"Are you familiar with Faust?" he asked.

Christine smiled.

"Yes. The opera I'm assuming. I love it." She replied.

Erik nodded.

"Have you ever sung it?"

Christine shifted her feet nervously.

"Um, a bit. I haven't ever been taught it, but I like to sing to it."

Erik tilted his head with a slight nod and a ghost of a smile.

Placing his hands on the keys of his piano, he responded.

"That should do. We will start on the jewel song, if you will. It will be the easiest for you to learn and best for me to gauge your singing with."

Christine felt a flutter in her stomach. She had never sung opera music around anyone else and she was afraid to.

"Uh, Okay," she said hesitantly, "but, I've never been trained in opera."

Erik shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Once you learn something of that level, everything under it will come easily to you. It may seem backwards to learn from the top down, but I think you can do it. Do you trust me?"

Erik nearly held his breath after asking this. He knew they were nearly strangers, and she had no reason to trust him, but he wanted to know.

Christine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and took a breath.

"Yes, I trust you."

 **Author's note: Sorry it's taking so long between chapters. I am really trying. Thanks for reading.**


	12. Practicing

Erik sat on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. His face was warm with thoughts of Christine. He couldn't get her out of his head. The moment she had opened her mouth, his spirit had left his body and ascended to the heights of ecstasy.

She was clearly not trained in opera, but she had a natural gift for it. She knew all the words, which was impressive for an untrained singer, but she also knew the notes. Her voice was unsure, but clear.

Burying his head in his arms, with the silliest smile threatening to break out over his face, Erik couldn't keep the emotions in his chest. He jumped up and nearly tripped over the rug.

He gripped his violin and played it with all his soul. The music swirled around him in unknown melodies and Erik found himself unaware of where the music would go next. His thoughts were filled with Christine.

Her laugh had made his fingers tingle when he had incidentally made a joke at his own expense. Her soft curls had graced his fingers as he had helped her don her jacket before she left. The light patter of her feet down his front stairs as she re-entered her world and left him to his made his heart both sink with dread for being alone, and soar with joy at the thought of her return.

Erik found himself unable of holding stil. He walked around as he played his violin. His heart soared with the high notes and sunk with the low. He had never before been so moved by something other than music, and it drove him to create music to express it.

Erik played until his arms threatened to give way under the instrument and he knew he must get to sleep.

He lay in bed without even feeling like he could sleep. He sat awake for what seemed like eternity, until he managed to fall asleep to the memory of her voice.

Christine woke up refreshed. She brushed the hair out of her face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

Looking out her window, she saw that it was a cloudy day and it threatened to rain.

At the thought of rain, Christine realized how dry her mouth was and stood up to get some water.

Padding out to the kitchen, Christine grabbed a glass and went to the sink.

After gulping the entire glass, Christine turned to see Meg only a few feet from her.

"Meg," she panted, "Don't just sneak up on people. You startled me."

Meg smiled mischievously and shrugged.

"So," she said, "How was it?"

Christine looked at her blankly.

"What?"

Meg rolled her eyes.

"The voice lesson. How was it?" she asked, "Did you see his face? Did he reveal his secret dark side? Is he secretly a terrible teacher? I need to know everything."

Christine shook her head with a smile.

"Meg, you are the strangest person," she stated.

Ignoring her roommate's statement, Meg continued pressing for details of what she seemed to consider "a date".

Christine described his house to the best of her ability and Meg seemed impressed, but less than satisfied when Christine would mention Erik himself.

"But what was he wearing? Did it seem like he dressed up? How did he act? Do you think he likes you? What kind of things did he say?"

Christine was not quite comfortable answering this type of question for whatever reason. She couldn't decide why, but she didn't want to disclose everything to her friend.

Being decidedly vague, Christine excused herself to get ready for a day of classes. She had things to do that day aside from talking to the local gossip.

Putting her hair up in a messy bun, she picked a blouse and got ready. She wasn't sure whether to expect Raoul to be in class or not, but she planned to be prepared in any case.

She put together a bag of snacks and a notebook for class that she had been using for notes and grabbed her umbrella as she left her apartment with an unexplained spring in her step.

Walking down the road, Christine went over the lesson in her head. She was trying to remember each piece of advice Erik had told her.

She needed to open her mouth a bit more, as she had been unintentionally obstructing the sound of her own voice. She had also been changing her voice too much in an attempt to sound like a singing voice.

"Your voice is already your singing voice," Erik had said, "It should not change from one moment to the next whether you are singing or having a casual conversation. If you do that, it will strain your voice and change your actual range."

Christine remembered exactly when he had said this to her. She had just tried to sing a slightly lower note, and had reverted back to her speaking voice in order to more comfortably make it. Erik stopped playing the piano abruptly and turned to her. His mouth was in a pressed frown. Turning so sharply had caused a lock of hair to fall over his brow but he seemed not to notice. His posture, already naturally straight and proper, straightened in a forced way. His hands fell loosely into his lap and began to pluck at the hem of his shirt.

Christine found herself at the classroom without remembering quite how she had ended up there. She sighed and entered, sitting in one of the seats and setting up the small desk attached.

Erik was counting the minutes until Christine would be coming to work again. He knew she worked that day with him, and he was mentally keeping track of how many hours were passing. His watch beeped again, letting him know it was exactly ten. She came in after noon today. Only a few more hours to wait.

He plucked a few strings on the cello he was working on and carefully twisted one of the knobs to tune it. He took the bow from the desk and began playing, to make sure it was tuned correctly. The cello, he found, was remarkably well made. It had a depth and quality of sound that was rare in instruments made newly. It must have been old, perhaps even an antique or heirloom of sorts. He liked it.

His fingers glided over the strings and he was acutely aware of the soreness in his limbs from his extensive playing the night before.

He stopped playing and put the instrument and bow down. He stretched his arms and back in the hope of relieving some of the soreness.

Sitting again, Erik wondered where Christine was at that moment.

He knew she had classes that morning, but he didn't know which. Perhaps she was already in Professor Khan's class, endeavoring to learn about art history. He wondered, with a slight pain in his chest, if she was speaking to her old friend. Raoul, his name was. He knew she was very fond of him, but Erik could not figure out to what extent her feelings reached for her "old friend".

He shook his head at himself. He should not be thinking that way. She was entitled to her own feelings and life.

Christine smiled at Raoul, who waved in response. He sat behind her again today.

She was already tired from her other classes, but Christine was glad to see he was there. She had worried he might avoid coming across her until she made up her mind about his proposal.

Professor Khan began the lecture, and Christine tried to pay attention as best she could and take notes, but she found her mind wandering and an almost unsupressable urge to hum as she worked bubbled up in her.

She tried to content herself with tapping her foot and playing music in her head to avoid disrupting the class.

Raoul cleared his throat behind her and her mind cleared abruptly. She became aware of his presence behind her and chewed on her lower lip nervously. She had made very little progress on her inner debate about how to respond to him. She had tried to distract herself instead, focussing on her work and practicing her singing. She knew she loved him, but she wasn't sure if it was merely in a familial way, or if she truly should marry him.

All at once, the lecture was over and the other students began leaving, a few lingering to pack away their things or finish their last note. Christine knew Raoul was still behind her, but there was no activity as if he was preparing to leave.

Turning to him, Christine found her old friend with a dazed smile on his face. He started, and grinned once they met gazes.

"Would you join me for lunch, Lottie?" he asked her.

Christine laughed and nodded.

"I want to speak to Khan for a moment, but if you're buying, I would be happy to," she replied.

Raoul nodded and Christine stood to approach her professor.

Professor Khan smiled as she walked up to him.

"What can I do for you today, Miss Daae?" he asked curtly.

"I just found out that we have a common acquaintance," she said, "You are also familiar with my coworker, Erik."

He laughed at this.

"Oh, indeed. I know Erik well, though I wouldn't refer to him as 'common' in any way. You must have picked up on at least a bit of this," he said.

Christine nodded.

"I suppose you're right," she said, "He is a very unique individual. How long have you known him?"

Her professor looked up with a sigh. He clicked his tongue as he thought back.

"I suppose it has been longer than you have been alive," he said, "I knew him since he was born. I was only a young child, but I lived here, in France, at the same time as he did when we were both young."

Christine nodded.

"And, you have not always lived in France," she said, "Where else have you lived?"

Smiling fondly, he paused again to think.

"I lived for a time in Iran, and I traveled to the surrounding countries over the course of several years. Erik accompanied me in much of this, but we were not always on the best of terms."

Christine noticed Raoul was becoming impatient in her peripheral and she sighed.

"I would like to talk with you much longer about this, but I have places to be," she said.

"Certainly," he replied, "If you wish to know more, you should ask Erik himself. I don't know how much I am at liberty to tell you."

Christine nodded and bid him goodbye, leaving to a nearby cafe to have lunch with Raoul.

Erik paused his pacing to listen when the door rang opened. It was about time for Christine to come in, but there had been several customers that the current clerk had talked with.

Her greeting the other worker made Erik smile against his will. She seemed happy that day and she took over for the clerk. She again set out a bowl of candy for the younger customers and she was humming to herself as she worked. He recognized that she was humming the jewel song and that made him even more happy that she was there.

An idea suddenly came to him and he picked up the cello and the bow. He listened to her humming to get an idea of where in the song she was, before beginning to play along with her. The store was empty aside from the two, so Christine hardly hesitated to begin singing aloud with his playing.

They harmonized perfectly for a moment before the door opened again, ringing the bell and making Christine stop abruptly.

Erik also stopped as Christine began to interact with the customers.

Erik listened as she talked to the people. He noticed her voice had a more melodic tone to it and she was nearly singing every word she said. She was really taking his advice to heart.

Erik was a bit surprised that his advice was taking effect so quickly. The point of that particular piece had been to eventually make both her speaking voice more musical and her singing voice more natural. If her voice was already taking on this quality, he thought he might actually be good at teaching, which was not something he had expected.

Erik tried to busy himself while Christine worked. He wanted to speak with her, but he knew he would have to wait until they both had opportunity.

Erik found himself also tending to hum happily as he worked, smiling to himself at the thought of Christine working so hard to improve under his instruction.


	13. Learning

"No, you use too much of your breath when you sing. You should not be able to hear your own air moving from your mouth. You can feel your breath in your throat, correct?"

Christine furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Uh, yeah?" she replied cautiously.

Erik nodded, standing up from the piano and gesturing to himself.

"You should feel your breath in your lungs and diaphragm, not any higher than your shoulders."

As he explained this, he motioned to the areas on his own body, raising his shoulders dramatically to demonstrate a breath.

"As the sound exits your lips, it should be clear and constant," he said.

Christine thought she understood what he was saying, so she agreed.

Stepping toward her, Erik put a hand on her shoulder.

"What, uh, what are you doing?" Christine asked gently.

Erik placed his other hand so it was only an inch from her lips, as if he was about to cover her mouth.

"Now, as you sing, I should only be able to feel a slight puff of air," he said.

His voice was low and gentle as he spoke. His lips and chin seemed to quiver as if in anticipation.

Christine began singing and tried to follow his instructions. She filled her lungs and diaphragm, letting only the necessary amount of air to pass from her lips as she sang.

Erik's face immediately changed as she sang. He had a slight smile, but his countenance was more sure than just a moment before.

As she came to a close, Christine saw Erik smiling bore brightly than she had ever seen him before. He lowered his hand and, when she was again silent, Whispered to her.

"See?" he said, "I knew it would help. You just sounded better than ever. You learn well."

Christine's heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, but she wasn't sure why. He was only a foot away from her, and still had his hand on her shoulder. She thought for a moment that he might kiss her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Erik released her shoulder, turning back to the piano.

"Good," he said, "now, let's try with accompaniment."

Erik cursed himself. He had almost let go of himself. He had nearly kissed her. He had been so close to her and she had sounded so sweet. He knew that it was a completely inappropriate thing to do, as they had never even actually been on a date or any such activity, but he had almost done it without thinking.

Her hair had been up that day, but a lock had escaped and tickled his fingers as he had placed his hand on her shoulder. From that distance, he had been able to smell the fragrance from her shampoo. It had smelled of strawberries and salt water, reminding him of the ocean.

Christine had not seemed uncomfortable at their proximity, so Erik's hopeful mind thought she may just happen to return his feelings, but he knew she was an incredibly friendly and innocent girl. She may have just felt comfortable with his teaching her, and thought nothing more of it.

Cursing himself all the more for almost taking advantage of the situation, and possibly a perfectly innocent girl, he put himself to reading a book.

His hand slid across the page, detecting the slight patterns of bumps with his fingers. He liked the way this book flowed. As the words ran through his head, they sounded more like poetry than just literature, and he would sometimes commit an entire passage to memory just so he could recite it when he wanted to hear something so well written.

" _How all things are weaving one in one; each lives and works within the other"_

Erik read this and remembered it, returning his fingers to the line over again. It struck him for some reason, so he made a note of it. He liked especially when Faust would talk philosophy. He managed to not only articulate his ideas with accuracy, but also make the words flow and mingle in a way that felt almost magical, if he were to believe in such things.

He grabbed a recorder that he kept next to the couch and made a verbal bookmark of the passage as his way of keeping notes, as writing wouldn't exactly work out for him.

Clicking it back off, Erik continued to read.

Christine tried to avoid seeing Meg since her most recent lesson with Erik. She didn't know why, but she blushed whenever she thought about it, and she didn't want her roommate to get any ideas.

She also couldn't get him out of her mind. She couldn't help but keep remembering how gently he had laid his hand on her shoulder and how softly he spoke. Remembering his voice made a pleasant chill run down her spine.

She was sitting comfortably in the middle of her bed, her legs crossed and a plate of warm bread on the blanket next to her. She was trying her best to study for an upcoming project, but her mind was wandering. Her head was swimming with two separate dilemas she was facing and they refused to let her work undistracted.

She knew she loved Raoul. She didn't know how she felt about Erik. She had known Raoul almost all her life. She had only just met Erik. Raoul was stubborn and sensitive. Erik was strong and kind. Raoul had helped her through so many hard times, but he never seemed to understand her, or even listen. Erik always listened and had an intuition that almost frightened her by its accuracy.

Two people she just could not decide how to feel about. It was making her sick.

A knock came to her door and Christine knew it was probably a curious flatmate ready to question the brain right out of her ears.

With a sigh, she reluctantly ushered Meg into her room.

Meg skipped in and all but jumped onto the bed alongside Christine. Christine had to grab her plate of food before Meg either sat on it or knocked it off the bed and onto the floor.

"So…" Meg trailed off, as if she was hinting at something, "How have the lessons been? I haven't been able to catch you and ask about them recently."

Christine took a bite of her bread and shrugged. She thought it lucky she happened to have food so she could avoid verbally answering for at least a minute. She was honestly dying to talk to someone, but her previous confidant was now one of the things she wanted to talk about.

Meg was not satisfied with Christine's answer and continued to prod her while she ate.

"Come one," she begged, "I have been your friend for years, Christine, you know you can trust me."

Christine knew two things. First: Meg was never going to stop asking until she was satisfied. Second: She herself was going to die if she didn't talk to someone soon.

With another sigh, Christine relented.

"Okay," she said, "but I don't want you to make my life a subject of gossip with anyone. It's between you and me."

Meg smiled and crossed her heart, promising to keep it all a secret.

"So, I don't know what to do about all of this," Christine finished. She looked at her flatmate, who looked almost equally conflicted. Meg knew what Raoul's proposal meant to and for everyone involved, so she was also unsure what should be done about it.

"Christine, you sure have gotten yourself into quite the situation," she commented.

"Well, I don't know if I would say that," Christine objected, "I didn't do anything to get myself into this.

She honestly felt she had actually tried to avoid situations like this, but there hadn't been much she could do. She couldn't control the actions of others.

"So, you might be in love with two different guys," Meg mused.

"That's just it," Christine cried, "I know I love Raoul, but I don't know if I'm IN love with him. I don't have a clue how I feel about Erik."

Meg nodded. "Just the same, it's possible you are in love in both cases, but you still have to make a decision. You can't leave them both without knowing."

Christine buried her head in her hands. She was sure this would be the death of her. University was stressful enough on its own. She didn't need all this extra drama.

"Okay, I know you probably don't need my advice, but hear me out," Meg offered, "I think you should test both of them. They each have something about them that makes you question your feelings for them. Use that as a test. I know for sure Raoul needs to be tested on how much he actually understands about you, but you'll have to decide what to do about Erik. Test them, then, either one, both, or neither of them will pass, and you can decide from there."

Christine nodded.

"I'll have to think about it, but that might just be the solution to my problem. Thanks for listening to me at least," she offered, "and remember, this is not a conversation topic."

Meg agreed with a vigorous nod of her head and a pantomime crossing of her heart to signify that she understood.

Christine and Meg talked and chatted from then on to late that night. They didn't go back into Christine's problems, choosing instead to speak about more idle things. Christine was glad for the distraction and grateful to have finally told someone about how she felt.


	14. Testing, testing

Erik was unusually busy that day. He had had several clients come in with new tasks for him. He knew intuitively that there must have been the beginning of an orchestra for a school or something going on in the area. The majority of the customers that had come in during the past few days had either been children, or parents on their child's behalf.

He was nearly crowded into his office for the amount of every sort of string instrument you would find in an orchestra being packed into it around his desk. He had repairs of all sorts to do, on top of the usual tuning and servicing. This was one of the times where he almost wished he had an assistant, but his overwhelming and inherent mistrust for anyone other than himself would not allow him such a luxury.

Groaning inwardly, Erik began sorting the instruments. He sectioned the perimeter of his office for each different instrument type and then in smaller categories by repair or servicing severity.

It took him hours to sort them all, and Erik felt only slightly productive by the time he was done. He knew he could have spent that time actually working on the instruments, but he would be better able to work now that they were all more organized.

The ring of the door made him perk up. He knew it was time for Christine to be coming in that day and wondered if it was her. The tell-tale sound of a bowl of candy being prepared and set out had him instantly on his feet. His suspicion having been confirmed, he smoothed his hair and made sure his mask was securely in place before opening his door.

"Good morning, Erik," Christine greeted him cheerfully.

Erik smiled in return to the one he could hear in her voice. "Good morning to you as well, Christine."

They talked casually through the day, Erik taking particular notice of the melodic quality of her voice. He took a special sort of pride in the fact that she was improving so much under his instruction. Her voice was improving so rapidly, he almost wondered if she already been taught all of it before.

"So, how much training have you had before I started helping you?" he interrupted in the middle of their conversation.

Christine was taken aback for a moment, her voice becoming silent and only the slight rustle of her clothes filled the silence before she responded.

"I don't know why you ask," she said hesitantly, "but I have almost always been in a choir or singing class of some sort. Only a few years ago did I decide to actually be tutored, and you know how that turned out."

Erik nodded solemnly. Her previous tutors sounded as if they wouldn't have been able to get a player piano to play correctly, so he assumed they had most likely not taught her anything useful. Perhaps her classes had been useful to her, though they very rarely ever were for this type of thing.

"My apologies," he said, "I was simply wondering if you had been taught well somewhere before my help. You learn so quickly I thought you might have already known some of it."

Christine laughed.

"Thank you," she said, "My father always said I was quick to learn when it came to music. I never really believed him until now. I suppose he may have taught me a few things when I was young. I don't really remember, but that could be part of what you were wondering about."

Erik agreed thoughtfully. He hadn't heard her talk much about her father before. It was evident from how she referred to him that she had loved him tremendously, but he had very little information about her past other than her musical profession and the few times she had mentioned her father or 'Raoul'.

"What was your father like?" Erik asked before he could stop himself.

There was an awkward silence, and Christine sighed.

Erik was about to apologize, when Christine spoke.

"He loved music more than life," she said, "and he loved me more than music."

There was an incredibly sad tone in her voice that made Erik's heart sink.

"One day, we were walking down the street, papa was playing his violin, and a few children were following us to listen. I was weaving some flowers together for him and not watching where I was walking. I stepped right off the edge of a ditch on the side of the road. The bottom was full of old, broken bottles. I let out a yelp, and before I hit the ground, I was in his arms," She told Erik mournfully, "I asked him where his violin was. He had dropped it the moment he saw me begin to fall. He never gave it a second thought if it meant keeping me safe. He simply told me "I'd give up my ears, eyes, and hands for you," and picked up the instrument. He had to repair it himself, as we didn't have the money at the time to get it professionally done, but he never complained."

Erik smiled sadly. The love in her voice as she told him the story made his heart ache. He had never had anyone care for him in that way as a child. He longed to be one of the people who could tell stories like that, with so much emotion others couldn't help but understand the significance of what was being said.

Clearing her throat, Christine returned the smile to her voice.

"Your turn," she said, making Erik start, "Tell me about your parents."

Erik felt the blood drain from his face. He had never had to explain his past to others before. He either refused to talk to them about anything personal, or, in one case, they already knew. His mind raced with excuses he could give to get him out of having to.

"Uh," he began, ever so eloquently, "I don't think you would be interested in hearing about my parents."

To this feeble excuse, he found himself in a more uncomfortable silence. He could tell Christine was not going to let it go. She would be able to see straight through his charade.

"Okay," she replied, much to Erik's surprise, "If you don't feel comfortable telling me yet, I won't make you. At least tell me how you became so good at music though."

Erik smiled in both shock and relief.

"Ah, I suppose I'm what people call a "savant" of sorts. I can't very well be talented at such things as art or sports, so my mind found something else to occupy itself. Music."

Christine laughed.

"Well, I can't say I'm that surprised at your answer. It must take a certain level of genius to even be able to play an instrument without the use of your eyes."

Erik chuckled in response.

"I suppose so," he said.

Raoul plunged his hand into his pocket for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. His fingers brushed the small box and his pulse relaxed. Christine had said she wanted to talk to him, and he immediately thought she might be accepting.

He knew he shouldn't be too sure, but he had prepared, just in case. He didn't see any reason why she would decide not to accept his proposal, so he considered it only a matter of time before the ring was needed in any case.

He checked his watch nervously and glanced around. She had a minute and a half before she was officially late.

Taking a sip of his water, he tried to not completely freak out.

He heard the door open beside him and nearly knocked over his glass to turn toward it.

There she was.

Her hair caught the light, bouncing in perfect, gentle curls. Her lips were naturally pink and her cheeks had a bright blush, as if she had just been hurrying. She was wearing the scarf, and Raoul had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Their eyes locked and they exchanged smiles before she came over to him.

She sat across from him and he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Raoul," she began, "I know you think you know what I wanted to talk to you about. You're wrong. This is not about your proposal, but it may end up being connected. Please, don't get too excited."

Raoul nodded, slipping his hand out of his pocket as inconspicuously as he could. Resting both elbows on the table (inwardly hearing his brother tell him it was ungentlemanly to do so), he pasted a false interested smile onto his face. Whatever this was about just became much less important to him.

He took a few gulps of his water as Christine began to talk. He found he couldn't quite pay attention anymore. His mind was wandering and his eyes were fixed on the red scarf she was wearing.

Her hands wrapped themselves in it and held it as if it was important for what she was saying. The weather was warm that day, so she was wearing it more as a fashion statement than for a functional item. His mind was so fixed, he only barely noticed her pale, slender fingers as they manipulated the item.

His mind raced with thoughts he knew were completely unfounded, but he couldn't help but think them despite this.

He had given everything for her. Hadn't he? He had risked his health for the seemingly insignificant scarf that she wore that day. He had to risk his profession to continue seeing her. She didn't know that bit, but he felt it made it so he deserved to have his feelings reciprocated in the least.

Tuning back into the conversation, Raoul was caught off guard.

"So, I think it might not be a very good idea for us to make that sort of commitment right now," Christine was concluding with a worried look on her face.

"Wait. What? Why?" Raoul asked, panicking.

Christine tilted her head, further furrowing her brow.

"I just explained how I feel. Didn't you hear a thing I said?" she asked.

Raoul felt attacked.

"Of course I heard what you said. I just don't understand why you feel this way."

Christine looked down at her hands. When she looked back up at Raoul, her beautiful, blue eyes were filled with tears.

"Raoul, I love you, but you don't act like you love me enough for me to marry you."

With that, she stood up stiffly and rushed out the door.

Raoul sat in shock for a few minutes before his brain processed what had just happened. He ran to the door, but she was already out of view by the time he got there.

As if on cue, the clouds directly above the cafe began to rain down on him and Raoul thought of how stereotypically cartoonish this was. He walked away from the cafe with dripping hair and a heartbroken feeling in his chest.

Christine sobbed into her pillow as Meg sat quietly on the couch next to her.

"I bet he hates me and never wants to talk to me again," Christine all but wailed, "I basically rejected him. I was so upset, I didn't think about what I was saying. I should never make him feel how he must feel right now. I might have broken his heart, Meg. What can I do?"

Meg shook her head.

"Christine, you did nothing wrong. He completely ignored you when you were trying to be sensitive to his feelings. He's the one who messed up. I say, if he can't even listen when you're trying to tell him something that important, drop him like he's hot."

Meg said this with such finality, it made Christine burst into a fresh bout of sobs.

Meg sighed and stood. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed two spoons and a couple containers of ice cream. She plopped herself back down next to her flatmate, opened a container and offered it to Christine with a spoon already in it.

"You need it," she said to Christine's confused look, "Just take it, and we'll watch some sad movies together. Call into work sick if you have to."

Christine smiled, taking the tub from her and sniffling quietly. Meg fetched some big quilts and the remote. She turned on a sad movie and bundled her flatmate up properly, sitting next to her with her own ice cream and blanket.

This was going to be a long road to recovery for her, but Meg was determined to get her there.

 **Author's Note: Hey, I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update. I'm doing some research for the upcoming chapters, and it's more of a rabbit hole than I intended. I'm just trying to make it as good as possible and I hope you keep reading and enjoying it. Thank you for your patience whether you like it or not.**


	15. 1,2,3

The letter that arrived a few days later, having been given to Meg while she was out, made Christine feel even worse about her current situation.

 _"_ _My dearest,_

 _As you have made it clear you don't want to marry me at the time being, I have accepted a position on the next vessel heading north. I will be gone for several months, and I will not be able to write to you for long spans throughout. I had hoped to be able to tell my commanding officer that I was resigning, due to my engagement, but I see that is not a valid excuse at this time._

 _When I return, I will come directly to you for your answer to my proposal. This will be the last time I speak to you as a potential spouse. If you decide at that time that you do not want me, I will remove myself from your life forever, as I know I could not keep my feelings for you concealed if we were to continue seeing each other. If you accept at that time, I will immediately resign from the Navy to marry you and do whatever you wish from that day on._

 _Please consider this well and think it through before I return._

 _Yours truly forever,_

 _Raoul De Chagny"_

When Meg found out what he had said, she nearly went into a rage. She accused him of trying to manipulate Christine in a most cruel manner and being the most despicable kind of person.

Christine went into a near comatose state, neither hearing nor seeing anything as she could think only that she might lose Raoul forever.

As the day went on, she began to function more, but would occasionally remember what had happened and have a relapse. Meg was exasperated with her flatmate. She had done all she could to make the situation better, but Christine was not taking anything very well.

Meg was also extremely frustrated with Raoul. He had caused most of the problems with Christine recently and seemed to be unable to know how to act when he was not getting what he wanted.

Meg sometimes understood the boy, but he had never really been through a difficult point in his life. He had never been poor or in want. His family was extremely wealthy, and that made it very hard for him to understand Christine when she spoke to him. He couldn't quite grasp the idea that someone he loved did not love him back. The only other people he had ever truly loved had always loved him. He had never really been rejected by someone up to that point in his life.

Meg mostly blamed this kind of stuff on the boy's family, though his parents were hardly accountable for it. It was mostly on the heads of his two older sisters and his aunt that had all basically raised him together. She couldn't make herself blame Philippe either, as he was himself very well rounded as an individual. Meg considered anything good the younger did to be by the influence of the older brother.

Christine was due to be at her voice lesson in an hour, and despite Meg telling her to just miss the one, she was determined to be there. She prepared herself, trying to steel her emotions about Raoul so she could focus on her lesson.

She set out, purposefully leaving behind her red scarf that she rarely ever left the house without. She needed to get her mind off of Raoul and keep it there if she could. Everything would work out in the end for the better, if she could just make it there without incident.

Erik took a deep breath. It was almost time. Christine would be coming over in just a few minutes and he was hoping to be ready. He thought he might tell her about his family situation today, but he wanted it to seem natural, not like he was trying to complain or dump his problems on her.

He was continually smoothing his hair back and trying to look his best.

He really wanted her to like him, and he thought she must already feel comfortable with him since she had shared the story about her father.

He heard her light knocking at the door and he checked that his mask was firmly on his face before he opened the door.

"Hello Erik," Christine said cheerfully as he ushered her in, "I have never needed to get out of my flat more than today."

Erik smiled.

"And why would that be?" he asked curiously.

There was a pause.

"Well, I have made quite the conundrum for myself recently," she said nervously, "My friend proposed to me, and I told him I had to think about it for a while, but he is very sensitive and he says he will basically never speak to me again if I reject him. I just don't know what to do."

Erik felt his hace grow warm as feelings of sadness and anger swirled within him. Of all the people in the world, he felt, she deserved such a situation the least. She was always trying to do good for others. He found himself having to take a deep breath to keep his anger from flaring too much.

Turning away from her, he found he had to say something in response.

"He sounds to be a fool," His voice said coolly, with an almost menacing tone in it.

There was a pause in the conversation before Christine responded.

"And why would you say that?" she whispered.

Erik straightened.

"Any one who would intentionally cut off communication with you is a fool. Especially over something as trivial as this. You are entitled to your own feeling and the only real loss would be his if he stopped speaking to you."

Erik nearly stopped breathing after he finished. He hoped he hadn't come off as too weird or intrusive, but he wanted her to know she was not to blame.

"Thank you," she said.

Erik turned his head slightly, to hear her better.

"What?" he asked, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands at that point.

"Thank you for saying that," she said, "I feel the same way, mostly, but I thought I was being foolish. I felt selfish for being willing to hurt him, but I think you might have made me realize that he is being selfish as well."

Erik felt a rush of joy before his heart sank and guilt washed over him. He knew he was also being selfish, and she deserved better.

Erik turned so he would be fully facing Christine and asked her to sit down.

He sat on his usual chair that he knew would be facing the couch she had sat on.

"Christine, you asked me about my family," he said, "And I avoided talking about it, but I feel you deserve to know as much as anyone. If you are still curious, I will tell you."

Christine was silent for a heartbeat before speaking up.

"I would very much like to know, if you are comfortable with it. If you are not, please do not feel pressured."

Erik smiled at her consideration. He knew she meant every word of it.

Clearing his throat, he began his tale as carefully as he could.

"I never knew my father, but I doubt knowing him would have changed my childhood much for the better. I knew my mother, but I only ever met one side of her."

Christine listened until it seemed Erik had finished his story. He had a curious air about him at the and of his tale. He did not seem to resent the events of his past. He recited it all with a steady voice that belied no emotion concerning the events. The only time he had seen any evidence of feeling during his telling was when he had mentioned his childhood dog. His chin had quivered so very slightly and he had paused for a moment to steady his nerves.

This slip had left Christine wondering what had happened, concerning the dog, to make him feel strongly enough that he betrayed himself during his tale. She knew he had not told her everything about his childhood, because doing so would have been ridiculous, and there were a few pieces of the puzzle missing.

Christine knew logically it was a bit silly, but she felt guilty for ever being unhappy when she had comparatively no reason. She felt sorry for him and wished there was some way for her to fix it. No one deserved to have a childhood like that.

She brushed some hair out of her face and cleared her throat. She was never sure how to react when people made themselves so vulnerable to her.

Erik suddenly stood up.

"I suppose I've been foolishly wasting our time. We should have been working on your voice this entire time instead of me just telling you my life story," He said nonchalantly, "Let's get to work, shall we?"

He offered his hand to Christine to help her up from the couch.

Christine took his hand and stood up. Erik plucked his violin from the top of the piano and Christine took her usual place, just behind the keys and slightly to the side.

Erik began to play his violin, but something nagged at Christine.

"Excuse me," she said, interrupting him, "I thought you said we were going to work on Idomeneo. You were not playing the song we discussed."

Erik gave a wry smile and shrugged.

"You're right. I did say that, I had just thought we might postpone the sad aria after the conversation we just had," he said defeatedly.

Christine cleared her throat and shuffled her feet nervously.

Wringing her hands, she said, "I thought you might feel that way, but I really want to sing it. It's one of my favorites and I think it might help me feel better to sing it."

Erik lowered his violin, his hands had a slight tremble and he took a breath.

"Very well," he said, "music has the power to heal and the ability to sort out one's thoughts. If you want Idomeneo, then we shall do it," he said with resolve.

He placed his violin on the top of the piano and took a seat at the keys. He played the intro and Christine counted the measures in her head and took a breath to begin.

Christine allowed her voice to swell with the music and she filled her lungs with the energy and emotion she was feeling at the moment. A few tears fell, unnoticed by either of them, from her eyes.

Christine let the music carry every thought she was having about Raoul, Erik, and herself. Her voice rang out as if she was not even the source. She could feel no strain or effort from herself that put out the music.

Every ounce of anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion she was feeling were thrust out of her chest with the music and she felt as if her very soul were being bared to the world from the sound. Every strain in her body released and relaxed and she simply sang for the first time in her life. Nothing else existed for a moment.

Erik's hands shook and he lost his place in the music. The jumble of sounds that issued from the piano made Christine jump.

"I'm sorry!" Erik exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. This has never happened before. I'm so sorry."

Christine laughed. She felt purely happy for the first time she could remember.

"No, Erik. You did wonderfully," she said with a grin on her face, "I feel amazing. Can we start again? I want to get to the ending phrases. Can we? Please?"

The joy and sincerity in her voice made it impossible for Erik to say no. He nodded, with his own smile slowly appearing. Placing his hands back on the keys, he started the intro again and listened carefully to how Christine sang.

He had been caught off guard by the power and emotion in her voice. No singer could replicate that sound at will. It could only come from feeling intensely and allowing that to aid your voice rather than hinder it.

Even now, as Christine sang the exact phrases she had just sung, the feeling was different. She was more careful, more measured. She was conscious of her own words now and Erik could tell. Her voice still had power behind it from her emotions, but it was tethered and controlled. She was doing it beautifully.

Erik could feel tears that had been left on his cheeks drying. He felt as if he had been given a glimpse into her very heart and soul.

Christine finished the sung portion of the song and Erik played the finishing measures before turning to her.

"Christine," he said, "You sang with such feeling that it even made me slip up. Not many have been able to do that before. It was an absolute honor to be present for that."

Christine laughed.

"Don't be silly. I'm sure I just sounded so awful that you couldn't handle it."

Erik snapped his head up.

"Christine," he said. This one word had a new reverence to him. "I couldn't be more serious. You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard and when a good voice is paired with that much raw emotion, it can make mountains move, if you wish. With your voice,"

He stood up, turning away from her. He was still nearly breathless from hearing her sing.

"The very heavens would move for you."

Christine was silent.

Erik was sure she would be able to hear his heartbeat, even over his heavy breathing. His heart ached in his chest with a feeling so intense he was sure it would kill him at any moment. He tried his best to at the very least stay standing, despite feeling like he should be crumpling up on the floor. Physically, he just wanted to curl up in a ball of internal agony.

His mind was overriding his physical feeling though. Only one thought was running through his mind at that moment, and he was desperate to satisfy it and make it stop. It was as if his head was being pounded with the idea and he could think of nothing else if he tried.

Erik turned back toward Christine. He could hear her breathing and he cautiously moved toward her. His hand brushed some locks of hair that were draped over her shoulder.

Using that as a reference point, he found her head and placed his hand gently under her ear. His thumb unconsciously rubbed the tears from her cheek.

"Forgive me for this," he whispered as terror began to creep into him.

He carefully lent down and kissed her.


	16. What Now?

Christine tilted her head into the kiss.

Erik felt the pain in his chest subside and be replaced with a feeling of perfect belonging. He knew neither of them had been anticipating the kiss, but, to him, it felt so right that, in that moment, he had no regrets or hesitation. The thought that had been running through his head slowly faded out, leaving his normal buzz of activity to fade back in.

All at once, he realized what he had done. He pulled away from Christine with an apology at his lips before she could say a word.

"I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that. I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

Christine was silent and Erik thought she must surely be feeling terribly awkward as he had just ruined everything.

Her hand gently took one of his and he could feel the blood rushing to his face.

"Don't be sorry," she said quietly.

He was completely unable to summon any words, so he simply stood, with his mouth agape at what he had done.

Christine stepped closer to him, nearly pressing up against him, and he felt her rise and press a small kiss to the side of his mask.

While Erik was still unable to speak, Christine got her umbrella from beside the door and bid him goodbye. He regained his voice in time to give her a hurried goodbye in response as she closed the door behind herself.

Erik stood in stunned silence for a few more minutes before he let himself fall into a couch. His mind was racing so quickly he couldn't sort out his own thoughts. He considered playing a piece, but couldn't even think of what to play.

At long last, he simply curled up and let a numbness come over himself.

Christine wasn't sure why she had reacted the way she did. She had lent into the kiss, despite her own inner turmoil about how she felt about Erik.

She walked briskly back to her flat, unsure of why her steps were so hurried. She wanted to have time to sort out her thoughts, while also wanting to get back to her flat and tell Meg about everything. It was strange to Christine that she felt so conflicted over such an insignificant thing as whether or not she wanted to hurry home.

When she came in the door, there was a note waiting for her from her flatmate.

 _"_ _Christine,_

 _I've gone out. Be back soon._

 _P.S. I know we're out of ice cream. I'm getting more, so don't worry if you need some today._

 _See you soon,_

 _-Meg"_

Christine smiled at the note.

Now she had time to sort out what she was going to say.

She fixed herself some hot chocolate, being wet from the rain as she had been too distracted to open her umbrella. She sat on a couch and sipped from her mug while she thought.

Meg was probably going to take this way too far and start considering her and Erik to be a couple. Christine didn't really have anything against that, aside from the fact that it made Raoul cut her off completely. Meg would be way too on board with the idea of letting him leave Christine's life, but it wasn't quite a decision Christine was ready to make.

Christine just about had her thoughts together when Meg arrived in a flurry of shopping bags and a slight breeze that pushed the door open a bit more quickly than she had meant to.

Meg sat on the couch next to Christine when she had put away the ice cream and other items that needed to be either frozen or refrigerated.

"Okay girl," Meg began, "You gotta tell me everything. How did it go today? Did you figure out anything else about how you feel about Erik or how he feels about you? I wanna know."

Christine laughed, but her face was getting warm with blush.

"Okay, so, first off, I'll just start with the beginning and go through the lesson I guess," she said.

Meg clapped happily and leaned forward slightly to make sure she could hear every word.

Christine began and Meg seemed to be soaking in every detail she possibly could.

When she got to the actual lesson part, Christine wasn't sure exactly how to describe what had happened.

"Uh, so, I was singing, and I just felt so much emotion about the entire thing that I just let it out through the song. I completely let myself go during the song, singing without restraint, when Erik messed up on the piano."

Meg looked almost as surprised as Christine had felt.

"Has he ever messed up at all before?" she asked.

Christine shook her head.

"His hands never even quiver when he's playing. He is always so focused,"

Meg nodded.

"So, he apologized, we finished the song, and then we talked about it. He is so articulate I feel inadequate when he speaks. He always manages to say things in nearly a poetic way. He told me I have the most beautiful voice he has ever heard. We were both quiet for a moment," Christine paused, not sure how she should describe the next part of the story.

Biting her lip, she thought back to what had happened. She pictured the way he had cupped her cheek in his hand. The slight tremble in his lips as he asked for her forgiveness. His lips had been surprisingly cool when they had made contact, but it seemed almost complimentary to her overly warm complection.

"Then," she said, giving up and going for the more straightforward and simple explanation, "He kissed me."

The shriek her flatmate emitted must have been audible from a block away. Christine was blushing profusely and instantly regretted telling Meg what had happened.

As she had expected, Meg was ecstatic with this new development and was ready to throw Raoul into the Seine if it meant Christine and Erik could be perfect and happy together.

Christine had to remind her that she still wanted to be friends with Raoul, and she did have some feeling for him. She still had to figure out the situation with him and she hoped to placate him so he would maintain their friendship into the future.

Erik was prepared to throw himself into the Seine.

Why had he done something so out of character? He was not the type of person that girls tended to fall for, he knew. So why had he let himself kiss her? She was perfection embodied, not to mention she basically had a fiance, and he was just an ugly, blind musician.

He could only stop beating himself up for it by reminding himself that she had kind of reciprocated.

She had leaned into the kiss. So, that meant she wasn't objecting, which was good. She had also kissed him on the cheek afterwards, which meant she probably wasn't upset with him, hopefully.

Erik tried to reason everything out, but he still felt like he had messed up in a major way. Even if she liked him back, that didn't mean they were a thing now, or that she would willingly cut off her relationship with this other guy just to be with him. She had a life outside of him, and she didn't even really know what he looked like.

Erik took off his mask and felt around his face. He knew he was ugly, but he thought it might have been dramaticized by the adults in his childhood. Maybe it wasn't that bad?

His fingers prodded at the bridge of bone marking where his nose should have been. He felt the deep sockets where his useless eyes lay deep in his skull. He knew he had scars scattered across his forehead and cheeks from when he had been too young for his mother to keep a mask on his face for long.

He groaned. He was only kidding himself if he thought he might not be as ugly as he had been told. He knew there was one person he could consult about his situation, but he admittedly did not look forward to it.

Professor Khan was taken by surprise when he received Erik's message. Erik had never been one for trusting others with anything to do with himself, but the young man seemed excited to be of use.

"Excuse me sir," the boy said, "Are you Daroga?"

Sighing, he confirmed it.

"Good," the boy continued, "I was told by a man with a peculiar mask on to tell you he wishes to speak to you. I'm not sure exactly who he is, but he said you would."

"Indeed," Nadir replied, "And where did he find you exactly?"

"Oh, he's apparently quite a perceptive guy. He called out to me as I walked down the street and offered me some money to tell you this. I don't know how he knew I was in need of a bit of cash at the moment, but he did."

"Of course. Well, thank you for the message. I shall see that I speak with him immediately. Please, for my conscience, please do not go back to where he lives."

The boy gave him a strange look, but agreed. He went on his way, leaving Nadir to ponder on the unusual invitation.

He stood up and made his way to the house as soon as he was able, assuming the matter was somewhat urgent since Erik did not just wait for his next unannounced visit.

As he walked up the steps to the door, it opened and Erik was standing at the threshold, urging Nadir on.

"Please, my friend," he ushered, "I am in need of your help."

Nadir was growing worried as he stepped through the door.

"Sit," Erik bid, waving toward the room in general where there were seats.

Nadir took a seat on a couch and watched carefully as Erik sat across from him. His old acquaintance's body language was uncharacteristically distressed, which made Nadir more afraid of what might have happened.

Erik seemed to be about to speak several times, each time thinking better of it and stopping, only to start again a moment later. Eventually, he gave up, taking his mask off with one swift motion and catching Nadir completely off guard.

"How terrible do I actually look?" he asked earnestly.

Nadir was speechless. He stared at the gaping hole in the center of Erik's face. He scanned over his almost freakishly pale skin and the discolored scars speckling his cheeks and forehead. His eyes seemed to shine or glow from within the deep sockets, and Nadir thought once again what a shame it was that those eyes would never see.

"Uh, what?" Nadir responded.

Erik groaned, his head falling into his hands. He seemed ready to weep, and Nadir was clueless as to why.

"It's hopeless," Erik said, "I look like a monster and that's all I shall ever be seen as without my mask."

"Okay, Erik," Nadir said, trying to calm him down, "Tell me what's going on so I can actually answer your question."

At this, Erik seemed more scared than the art teacher had ever seen him.

"Well," Erik said, "you see, I, well, uh,"

"Did someone see you without your mask?" Nadir asked, "Did you break the law again? What happened that you are for some reason concerned about your looks all of a sudden?"

Nadir's tone shocked Erik out of his stupor. He frowned at the other man.

"Well, I'm glad to see your faith in me is unwavering, Daroga," he said with a dangerous undertone, "No, as a matter of fact. I have not broken the law. I truly hope you didn't actually consider that as a possibility at this point. Also, no one has seen my face except you to my knowledge, so rest assured, there should be no angry mobs coming to kill me for being a beast."

Nadir felt a pang of guilt for doubting Erik, but he still felt at least a little justified in his worrying. Erik had done things that Nadir couldn't easily forget.

"Then what is driving you to such hysterics? You can't expect me to believe this was just a random thought you had and needed to share with me today."

Erik bit his lower lip, a habit Nadir had never seen Erik exhibit before.

"Am I too ugly to be loved?" he whispered in response.

Nadir's attitude softened slightly at the melancholy tone in Erik's voice.

"Erik," Nadir said gently, "please tell me what brought this up. I want to be able to help you."

Erik took a deep breath and tried to steady himself.

"Well, our mutual acquaintance, Christine Daae, has been getting voice lessons from me, as you might have heard," Erik began.

 **Author's Note: Hey, I'm not going to be able to post this month, as it's National Novel Writing Month, and I am participating in the event. I will do my best to update as soon as I can, but just a warning that this month is busy for me. Thanks for reading.**


	17. Advice

Raoul was going to be coming back in just a few days and Christine was freaking out just a bit. She began spending hours everyday just pacing back and forth in front of Meg, debating aloud. She circled through her reasons for accepting his proposal, then coming back to her original reasons for not accepting him, only to find herself back at the beginning.

Meg had taken to stocking up on snacks before each round of ranting by her flatmate. She reclined on the couch and let her gaze lazily follow Christine's form as she walked around the room sporadically.

Christine had gone through similar states before. When her father had died, she had talked about him nonstop for days before she exhausted herself. There had been a slightly more minor occurrence when, as a teen, Philippe had decided Christine was bad for Raoul. Christine was devastated that he felt that way and argued with herself about it for hours. Philippe had grown out of that, and Christine was happy to keep Philippe and Raoul in her life after that.

Personally, Meg thought Raoul was being a moron in this current situation. He obviously thought he deserved to have his feelings reciprocated, which was just stupid. He didn't deserve anything more than friendship, and if he couldn't handle that, then he didn't even deserve to be her friend.

The only problem was Christine.

Meg loved her flatmate like her own sister, but she was always a bit of a pushover when it came to Raoul. She saw the boy as delicate, so wanted to protect him from injury, which made her way too willing to accommodate him in his every whim. The past few years had been good for her, but Raoul was still just as much of a spoiled brat as ever.

"Okay, girl," Meg interrupted, "Here's the thing. Do you want to marry him?"

Christine was caught off guard and left her mouth gaping for a moment.

"Because if you do, then go for it. Tell Erik that you're getting married and let him move on with his life. If not, then tell Raoul how you feel. Let him know that you are willing to still be friends with him and everything, but you don't want to marry him. It doesn't have to be as difficult as you make it out to be."

Meg stood up from the couch. She was done listening to her flatmate worry. She also needed to stop eating junk food before she really regretted it.

Brushing herself off, Meg put on her shoes and left. She needed to get out of the flat for a while and knew exactly what she was going to do.

Christine watched as her flatmate left. She was completely lost and wished she knew what to do.

Did she want to marry Raoul?

She pondered over the question Meg had put to her, trying to figure out how she answered.

No. She didn't.

The answer his her like a train. She knew she didn't want to marry him. He was nice, handsome, and he loved her, but she didn't want to marry him. In her heart, there was no feeling of longing for him and he had for her. She didn't want to be with him always or live with him.

She didn't exactly have a picture of what she wanted her life to be for the future, but she had a feeling of how she wanted it to feel. She wanted it to feel comfortable, with her never being required to do anything, just being able to be productive without outside motivating factors. She wanted to be able to sit on a couch and read a book, next to the person she chose to marry while they feigned occupation, but were really just revelling in the fact that they had such an opportunity and were able to just be with one another.

She wanted to be with someone whose presence she could enjoy soaking in. Someone who would never stop teaching and learning with her at every turn in their lives.

She didn't know who it would be, but she knew she did not feel that way with Raoul, and she never had.

Now that she had the answer, rolling it around on her tongue, she just needed to figure out how to tell Raoul.

She didn't want to marry him, but she was still averse to completely banishing him from her life. She wanted him to support her in her decision and all her decisions going forward.

A thought came to her like a cough, unexpected, but effective.

She quickly put on one of her lighter jackets and headed out.

There was one person who always seemed to know the right words to use. She just hoped he wouldn't feel to awkward to help her.

"Well, Erik," Nadir said with a sigh, "You sure seem to have made a mess for yourself."

Erik frowned.

"I know that," he said in a huff, "I want you to help me figure out what I should do now to get myself out of it. Have I ruined everything? Tell me what I should do."

Nadir thought for a moment before clicking his tongue once and shifting on the couch.

"If she comes back for her next lesson, you didn't ruin everything," he offered, "And you can start from there at least. Don't avoid the topic in conversation. If she wants to talk about it, then your best hope is to oblige. Men who ignore something like this come off as rude or insensitive. Don't be one of those guys."

Erik nodded and was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. He stood to answer it.

As Erik walked toward the door, Nadir rolled his eyes at his old friend. His eyes landed on an object on the seat across from him that made him jump up.

He grabbed the mask from the seat and lunged toward Erik, who had nearly made it to the door. Just as the door began to open, Nadir managed to shove the mask onto Erik's face. The contact made Erik stumble back a step and he quickly raised his hands to his face to fasten the mask on.

"Thank you," Erik said quickly before turning back to the open door.

"How may I help you?"

"Oh, I realize this might be a bad time, but I was hoping you would be able to help me with something?"

Erik grew even more pale at the sound of the voice.

"Christine," he said, his voice was slightly hoarse when he said it, but he cleared his throat before continuing, "Of course I would love to help you. Please come in."

Erik stepped back and Nadir caught Christine's eye as she stepped in.

"Oh! Professor Khan! Good afternoon. I hadn't expected to see you here, but I suppose it's not that strange for you to be," Christine said and shook Nadir's hand.

Nadir greeted her in a like manner, giving her a friendly nod.

Erik walked toward the seats in the room, as if to call attention back to himself.

"What is it that you need help with, Christine?" he asked.

Christine put her hands together and began wringing them nervously. She glanced at Nadir before she seemed to decide it would be fine if he were to hear what she had to say.

"Well, remember that conversation we had about my old friend Raoul?" she asked.

The name was familiar and Nadir knew she was referring to the boy that always sat with her in his class.

Erik nodded in her direction.

"I do, and again I apologise for probably insulting him. Has something changed in the situation?"

Christine grew slightly pink and let her hands fall to her side before lifting them again and clasping them together.

"Yes," she said, "Things have changed a bit since we last talked. I have made a decision about how I want my relationship with him to be."

Nadir could see Erik tense at her words, but Christine was looking away as it happened.

"If I may ask," Erik began, clearly hesitant, "What is your decision?"

Erik readied himself for the answer he was dreading. He knew the Daroga was watching the entire exchange and would be able to read his body language like a book, but he didn't really care. He wanted to know how Christine was going to respond to her friend.

"I am not going to marry him," she said, "I don't want him to stop talking to me, but I will not marry him either."

Erik felt his muscles relax involuntarily and realized he had been tense before.

"Then may I assume you want help with the situation?" he asked.

Christine let out a breath.

"I was trying to figure out how to ask you," she said, "You are just always so articulate and good at making things sound right. I was hoping you might be able to help me tell him without ruining our relationship altogether. Do you think you could?"

Erik pushed aside the thoughts that her friend had already ruined their relationship so he could think about how he could help.

"I'm flattered you think of me as articulate," he said, "I shouldn't have thought of that as a way to describe myself, but I do hope I can be of some help to you."

Christine laughed.

"Alright," she said, "We'll talk about that more later, but for the moment, what do you think I should do?"

Erik asked his guests to sit while he thought about it. Daroga excused himself at that point, making some excuse about grading papers or something. Erik wasn't sure if Daroga's presence had made either of them more or less comfortable.

They were now sitting across from each other, and Erik couldn't help but keep his hand up at his face, making sure the mask was securely in place. The near catastrophic incident at the door had done a good job at making him paranoid about whether or not his mask was on.

Now all Erik had to do was make himself focus on helping her with her current predicament. He just hoped he didn't end up making anything worse.


	18. Support

Christine regretted her decision.

For some reason, she had been a complete idiot, and she had invited Erik to come with her to speak with Raoul.

Erik had been having a hard time figuring out what she should say or how she should approach the conversation, so she had asked him to accompany her on the day.

She was now sitting in the same cafe where Christine had made Raoul very upset, and Erik was sitting across from her.

She was nervously wrapping her hands in a handkerchief she had brought for that very purpose. She refused to bring the scarf, as it would have undoubtedly given Raoul the wrong idea again, but she needed something to wrap her hands in to satisfy her nervous habit.

Erik was tilting his head at every sound and Christine realized he must not go into public places like this very often. He seemed nearly as jumpy as she was, but he showed it by sitting rigidly and being alert to every small noise.

Christine worried his presence would upset Raoul more than he already would be, but it gave her some comfort to have someone to support her and be there in case the meeting went south.

Erik reached out to her all of a sudden and grasped her hands, which she hadn't noticed she was nearly crushing in the twists of the handkerchief. He gently pulled them apart and took the piece of cloth.

"I could hear the nervous motion of your hands," he explained, "A nervous habit like that can make you more worried, though you might think it helps. I promise, you have nothing to be nervous about. Whatever happens, it's for the best. You need to do this."

Christine smiled. She knew he was right, and that's why she had invited him in the first place. He was so good at looking at everything logically and knowing what was best. She just hoped she could build off of his courage when the time came.

"I know, you're right," Christine said with a sigh, "I just can't help but worry. I am glad you're here, though I'm worried Raoul will feel differently."

Erik smiled. He had been worried that she was uncomfortable with his presence, and the idea that she thought this Raoul might be upset with him being there made him feel a prickle of hope despite his attempt to stop it. It meant to him that she saw him as a potential interest if she thought Raoul might see him as such.

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment, so he could focus on the situation at hand. He was there for Christine and he needed to support her.

He heard the door behind him open and Christine took a sharp breath.

Raoul was here.

"He's here," Christine whispered, more to herself than to Erik, he thought.

Erik nodded in a way he hoped was encouraging. He knew she needed all the courage she could get for the next few minutes.

Steps approached the table, closer to Christine than Erik.

"Good afternoon," came the voice from this "Raoul". He sounded very young. His voice was seemingly undeveloped and he definitely wasn't a singer.

Christine greeted the boy and then the attention seemed to shift toward Erik.

"And who are you?" Raoul's voice asked coldly.

Erik almost smiled, but thought it was best if he didn't at this point.

"I'm Christine's voice teacher," he answered flatly.

Raoul seemed to be satisfied with that and his attention turned back to Christine.

"You asked to meet here, and I told you I would be expecting an answer when I returned," He said with an accusatory tone in his voice.

Erik could hear Christine's hands rubbing against each other as she must have been wringing them. He wanted to reach out and calm her again, but thought Raoul might not take kindly to that.

"Well," Christine said timidly, "I know that. I actually did ask you here to answer your proposal, but I want you to listen to what I have to say first."

Raoul was silent, and Christine seemed to be unable to continue.

Erik reached out and gently tapped her hands, which were indeed wrapped together tightly. He nodded to her, trying to tell her that she needed to get it over with.

He felt her hands relax and release their grip on each other as he retracted his own. She took a deep breath and continued.

"I know you really want this," she said, "you want us to be together and live happily ever after, but you need to understand that I wouldn't be happy."

There was a pause as Raoul made a sound of protest, but Christine cut him off.

"If you want to never speak to me again, I will accept that, but I do not wish it. I want you to still be my friend. You know me better than anyone else and I don't want to lose you, but I cannot marry you with a clear conscience. I know I owe it to myself to let you know that I could not possibly be happy if I married you."

Raoul was silent for a moment.

"I have to think about this," Raoul said suddenly before walking away in a rush. He left the cafe and Erik heard the door close behind him.

The remaining pair were quiet for a moment.

Then Christine started to laugh.

Erik smiled, but was a bit confused.

"I can't believe I did it," Christine said, still laughing, "I have been dreading that conversation for months and now it's over. He doesn't seem to hate me, which is great. I thought for sure he would never speak to me again, and he might not, but at least I did what I could."

Erik's smile grew wider. He could hear the difference in her voice. It was unburdened and light.

"Do you want a drink?" Christine asked, "I'll buy it for you."

Erik shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of tea at the moment."

Christine giggled and ordered them each a cup of tea.

"Thank you so much for coming with me today. I know it was probably not your favorite thing to do, but I really don't think I could have done it without you. I really, really appreciate it."

Erik laughed in response. Christine had never heard him laugh before. He normally just smiled to show his amusement or joy. His laugh was clear and deep, like his voice. Christine unintentionally noted that it was a very pleasant laugh to hear.

They drank their tea and talked for a while. Christine noticed Erik seemed to have attempted to dress more casually than was normal for him. She wondered if it was so he wouldn't stand out quite as much. He was wearing a T-shirt under his blazer and a fedora that helped to make the mask not stand out as much. His blazer was also rolled up just a bit and the cuff on his forearm made it look more relaxed.

When they had finished their tea, Christine stood, followed shortly by Erik. Christine placed Eriks hand around her arm so she could help him walk back to his house. He had his walking stick, but she had noticed he didn't like to use it very much.

They walked down the street and Christine was admiring the scenery. The sun was high in the sky, but there were just enough clouds that it was not blinding. The spring leaves were bright green and glossy, making the trees and plants seem to shimmer with a slight breeze. There were a few plants that had already started to blossom, and their colorful flowers made the air have a pleasant taste to it.

"What does it look like?" Erik asked suddenly.

Christine was surprised.

"What?" she asked.

"I know you are observing everything around us. You must have very good eyes, I think, and I would like to hear what everything looks like to you."

Christine felt her face grow warm, but she agreed to describe everything to him.

"I don't know about me having 'very good eyes' as you say. I actually almost need glasses, but it's borderline," she said, thinking of what she should do.

"I think I'll describe things to you in a way that you will know," she said, "I'll not use visual cues, but I'll change what my eyes see to things that you could feel or hear. Does that sound like it will work?" she asked.

Erik smiled warmly.

"That sounds even better and I think you will do wonderfully."

Christine looked up to the sky and thought about how she should describe it.

"Have you ever had the color blue described to you?" she asked.

Erik shook his head.

Thinking, Christine did her best.

"It's like running your hand under cold water on a warm summer day, or like tasting fresh fruit for the first time that year," she said, "the clouds are white, which feels like a comfortable silence where you are warm and safe."

Erik listened to Christine as she described the world, and he felt for the first time like he could almost see it. He didn't have a very good idea of what sight would be like, but he felt like the world was less of a mystery to him now. She never made anything sound unpleasant or ugly, she described everything with casual, comfortable language that embodied everything good in the world.

"The trees moving in the wind are like the sound of a brook winding through hills. It's like a warm rain that you feel on your fingertips and can smell it bringing out the earthiness of the grass. There are a few plants that have blossomed and they are like hearing laughter from far away while you walk down a path that is far away from everything."

Erik could smell the pollen in the air and he felt like he finally had an explanation for what the source of it was. He had known that there were flowers, of course, but had never really been able to see the appeal until hearing how Christine described them. Now, he wished Christine could be around to describe everything to him always. He thought he might never again have a bad day if he could use her as his eyes from then on.

They walked up the stairs to his house and he knew she would have to leave. She had many things she had to do and he also needed to work on some things, but he couldn't help but be sad as she said goodbye.

"Well," she said, "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at work. Thank you again for helping me. I owe you one"

Erik smiled.

"You don't owe me anything. By letting me hear what the world is to you just now, you have already repaid me in full. I was happy to help and I will be glad to be with you at work tomorrow."

Christine laughed.

"Well, thank you anyways," she said, "goodbye."

Erik echoed her farewell and listened as she walked away. He turned and entered his house with a sigh. He hoped the next day would go well.

 **Author's Note: With the description Christine gives, I'm not very happy with the way the wording ended up. I was trying to make it all poetic and cool, but I feel like it comes off more as silly and weird. So, apologies for all of that, but I hope you liked the rest of the chapter.**


	19. See Me Not

Christine couldn't help but smile as she walked back to her flat. She was thinking about how Erik had smiled while she did her best to describe the world to him. He seemed to be enjoying it and Christine truly hoped he had.

She entered her flat and scanned the room for Meg. She noticed her flatmate's bag sitting by the door, so she knew she was there somewhere, but found no more evidence of her presence.

Christine called out to Meg, who popped her head out from her room down the hall.

"Hey girl," Meg called back, "how'd it go?"

Christine shrugged, tossing her own bag onto the couch.

"It didn't go as terribly as last time," she offered, "but he didn't seem happy."

Meg came out from her room and plopped herself down next to Christine's bag.

"Well at least that's a start," she said.

Christine nodded with a frown.

"I'm still worried he might hate me for this all," she said.

Meg brushed her off.

"If he decides to hate you now," she said, "then he never loved you in the first place. So you dodged a bullet."

Christine agreed verbally with her flatmate, but couldn't help worrying anyway. She didn't want Raoul to hate her, even if others saw it as better in the long run.

Erik was almost rushing through his last few repairs as the time approached when Christine would be coming. He had worked overtime just to get them done and he only had a couple left.

He had taken notice of the attitude change he had undergone after Christine had started. Before, he would have relished having an excuse to lock himself in his office all day and ignore anyone who came through the door. Now, he felt suffocated in his office. He just wanted to be around Christine. He wanted to hear her describe the world to him, he wanted to hear her talk about everything and nothing all at once, he wanted to be near her, just soaking in her presence as they sat in comfortable silence.

He heard the door open just as he put the last string into the violin he was working on.

He stood and exited his office as Christine was putting out the usual bowl of candy.

"Good morning, Erik," she greeted cheerfully.

Erik greeted her in a like manner and asked her how she was.

"I'm doing well, thank you. I haven't heard from Raoul since the other day and I hope he isn't mad at me, but I am worried he might be," she said. She was clearly trying to sound calm and nonchalant, but there was a twinge of sadness in her voice.

Erik tried to ignore the bit of joy he felt when he heard Raoul wasn't talking to her. He tried to explain it away as friendly concern for her feelings, as Raoul was the cause of emotional pain for her, but he knew it was more selfish than that.

"He is probably deciding whether or not he is going to be angry with you," he offered, "At this point, there is very little you can do. You just have to wait."

Christine agreed.

They talked idly for a few minutes as Christine organized a few things around the store and Erik wished he could be more helpful with it.

The memory hit Erik like a hurricane. He remembered what Daroga had advised him to do. He didn't really want to, fearing it would change things, but he knew his window of opportunity was closing the longer he waited.

"Uh," he interjected in a pause, "I know I've been procrastinating this, but I think it's something I need to do, so I hope you don't feel like it's intrusive or awkward."

Christine was silent in response and Erik thought that would be the most permission she was going to give him.

He took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself as best he could.

"So, I know it was completely unprofessional and uncalled for, so I felt I needed to address what happened at your lesson about a week ago," he said.

He paused, letting Christine respond before he continued. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say about it, but Daroga had said he needed to talk about it.

"I agree," Christine said, "I was wondering if you were ever going to bring it up, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable about it."

Erik nodded. He wasn't sure why, but he felt it was the appropriate response.

"I, uh, I'm not, I'm," Christine stuttered nervously, "I'm not really upset with you, if you were worried about, about that."

Erik felt like his lungs had just opened and he could breathe better. He was glad to hear she wasn't upset with him.

"Uh, but I do have to ask," Christine continued, "Why, uh, why exactly did you, uh…"

She seemed unable to decide what to say at that point, so Erik thought he might need to say something.

"Why did I, uh, kiss you?" he offered quietly.

"Yeah," Christine agreed, "I mean, I just, I've been wondering, if there was a reason, or, uh, I don't know."

Erik nodded. He thought she might ask. He began to wring his hands, knowing it wasn't going to help, but feeling he had to occupy himself somehow.

"I, well, I guess, uh," He began, feeling stupid for stuttering when he was supposed to be the articulate one, "I guess I've been falling for you since you first came. I have been, um, I've tried to, well, I knew you had Raoul from nearly the beginning, so I just,"

He didn't really know how to say what he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that he wasn't going to mess up like that again, but he wanted to know, really, if she reciprocated his feelings at all. He just couldn't seem to get the right words to come to him.

A pair of slender hands touched his, making him jump a bit. They pulled his hands apart, forcing him to stop wringing them nervously. She stood there, silent, for a moment. Just holding his hands in hers.

Erik's heart was beating hard and he didn't know what was about to happen.

"Christine," he whispered.

He hadn't meant to say anything, but it had come out without him even thinking about it.

"Erik," she whispered in response, "I can't. Not now. I don't know how I feel about anything right now. I need some time."

She dropped his hands and stepped away. She walked back to the counter, and before Erik could say anything, the door opened and Christine greeted a customer.

Erik couldn't feel his heart pounding in his chest anymore. He wasn't even sure he could feel it beating. His breathing had stopped and he really wasn't sure what was happening.

Christine was busily helping the customer, not paying any more attention to him, so Erik turned and walked back into his office. He closed the door behind himself and stood in silence.

His office no longer felt small and cramped to him. It felt cavernous. He stood, as if in an empty cathedral, feeling as if everything were yards away from him and there was no one to be heard for miles.

This profoundly lonely feeling was something he had not experienced since he was a child. He had thought he had grown out of it, but now realized he had just become numb to the emptiness.

He sat down into his desk chair, not sure what he should do then. He had no more work to do, as he had rushed to be able to talk to Christine.

As he thought her name, it felt different. It had a feeling, before, of beauty and it almost had a taste, of something sweet and delicious. Now, it was sour, but still pleasant. The difference reminded him of the difference between being in a house, with warmth and comfort around you, and being outside, where you could feel the familiar surroundings, but they were farther. Like you could have them, but only for a moment.

Erik cursed himself. He knew he must have done something to mess this up. He always ended up ruining any good he found in his life.

Christine almost cried. She felt relieved to have finally told him, but she hated herself for doing it.

She really didn't know how she felt at the moment, and didn't think it would be right to enter a relationship like that. She knew Erik wasn't exactly asking her to be in a relationship with him, but she didn't want to even tempt fate by letting herself start going in that direction.

She remembered the tender and hopeful way he had said her name. She felt like a terrible person for not being able to tell him she felt the same way. She wanted to have the same feelings for him, but she just didn't know if she did.

She tried to just focus on doing her job for the time being, but she couldn't help feeling lonely as she talked to the customers while they came in, looked around, and left. She still enjoyed interacting with them, especially the younger ones, as usual, but she just felt more alone than she did before.

It was almost the same loneliness she had felt after her father had died. That's when Raoul was away on the sea and Christine had no one. Meg hadn't even been around then. She had left for university a few years before Christine did.

Christine almost didn't notice as her shift came to an end. When it was over, and the next cashier came in to take over for her, she quickly packed up and headed out.

As she reached for the door handle, Christine instinctively turned to say goodbye to Erik, but realized he had shut himself in his office. She turned back, slightly upset, and left.

She walked down the sidewalk, watching the ground in front of her rather than looking at her surroundings as usual. She wanted to be thinking, and making herself feel better, but she had a stunning lack of thoughts coming to mind. She just watched the ground, not thinking of anything.

She entered her flat and saw Meg on the couch. Her flatmate smiled at her entrance and lifted her hand in a little wave.

At Christine's less enthusiastic wave, Meg raised an eyebrow.

"What's up, buttercup?" she asked.

Christine rolled her eyes.

"I'm feeling a bit off today," she said with a shrug.

Meg laughed.

"Girl, I've known you for years. I know when somethings up and when you're just having an off day. Come on, tell me what's going on," she said, gesturing to a seat in front of her.

Christine sat down with a heavy sigh. She was getting a headache, so she let her hair down from the ponytail it had been in all day.

"Well, Erik wanted to talk about what happened," she said, "You know, that day."

Meg nodded, leaning forward in her seat curiously.

Erik heard Christine leave and felt a stab of pain in his chest. He had hoped she would say goodbye to him that day even though he had messed up. He wondered if she was upset with him now, or if she had just forgotten about saying goodbye.

He heard the other cashier talking to the customers that came in, but couldn't help noticing the difference in his approach to the job from Christine's. He had no enthusiasm for what he was doing. He would hardly even greet the customers that came in and would never engage them in conversation outside of what they were purchasing.

Erik stood, picked up the violin from his desk, and made sure it was in tune before he started playing it.

He wasn't sure what song he was going to play when he picked the instrument up, but the tune was soon familiar to him. He was playing the song from Idomeneo that Christine had wanted to sing so badly.

The melody carried Erik with it, swelling and pulsating within him. Ilia 's words came to his memory. She sang of her brothers and her father, who were dead, and how she felt she was betraying them for having fallen in love with the son of their killer. Her home country was destroyed by the father of the man she had fallen in love with, and to whom she was still a prisoner.

Erik stopped playing, and sat back down. He let the opera play through his mind. He wondered why this particular song had caught Christine's fancy that day.

Trying to analyze Christine's mind felt more intrusive than Erik wanted to be. He had already messed up somehow and he knew trying to act like he knew what was going on in her head would end up even worse.

He sighed and felt suddenly fatigued. He wished he were at home so he could comfortably take off his mask and rub his face.

Erik realized it was time that he could leave, and he felt immense relief at the thought. He packed up his things and didn't even acknowledge the cashier as he left.


	20. Classic

Christine took a deep breath and hesitantly knocked on the door. After a moment's pause, it opened.

Christine looked up at Erik's masked face, trying to figure out how he was going to react.

"Uh, hi," she said, "I didn't know if I'm still welcome, but it's time for my lesson, so I thought I might as well find out."

Erik smiled, but it seemed less genuine than normal.

"Of course you are still welcome. I made a deal with you and I do not intend to break it," he said, stepping back to allow Christine in.

Christine stepped through the doorway. She glanced around, trying to find something that might give her some insight into how Erik's mind worked. She desperately wanted to know what kind of thoughts went through his mind at any given moment.

Erik sat at the piano and seemed to be waiting for Christine. She hurried over and stood in her usual place.

"Today," Erik began, "I want you to focus on the shape of the sounds. Classical music, such as opera, is sung with a rounder shape than more modern music. The rounder shaped sounds are typically easier to sing than others, so it should help you in the other areas of your voice as well."

With that, Erik placed his hands on the keys and began to play.

Erik was glad she was there, truly, but there was an ache in his chest that he couldn't seem to make go away.

Erik noticed that his music was being affected by the emptiness in his chest. It didn't have the usual feeling. He was playing, but the music seemed mechanical and dead, as if he were just a machine that had been programmed to play it.

He hoped Christine didn't notice. He didn't want her to think it was because of her.

What was wrong with him?

Rejection had never affected his music before. He had never played like this when his mother told him she hated him, or when the other kids had torn off his mask to beat him. His music was the one constant in his life, it was always different, but always there and beautiful.

There had been one time he had played like this, he remembered. When he had only just met Christine, and his mind had been muddled.

The lesson went on as it normally would. Erik corrected Christine's technique, and Christine responded immediately, developing and improving as quickly as ever.

Every few minutes, Erik would almost forget what had happened and would start actually enjoying the lesson. The feeling would only last until his mind decided to remind him about the lesson before. He hated it.

Erik wanted to be able to actually enjoy Christine's company again. He didn't want to have a pulsating awkwardness in every interaction going forward. He felt like he had dug his own grave and laid in it. Now he was just waiting for Christine to bury him.

Before Erik even had the thought to say something about their situation, the lesson was over and Christine was leaving.

Erik mechanically bid her farewell and heard the door close. The empty air seemed to be a weight on his chest, making him feel out of breath and overly warm. It was like he had a heavy blanket over his head.

Yeah. This was just great. Erik hated himself for getting into this kind of situation. He had allowed himself to become foolishly attached to Christine and he could feel that is wasn't going to be an easy fix. He also didn't really want to fix it, in a way.

Erik had allowed himself to fixate on part of what she had said. "Not now" she had said, "I need some time".

He knew that didn't really mean she would reciprocate his feelings if he just waited, but he hoped it meant she might. Erik found himself willing to wait an obscenely long amount of time if it meant Christine would feel the same way toward him. She hadn't said that she didn't feel anything for him, but she had said she needed time, and Erik was willing to give her as much time as she needed.

Christine was glad Erik had acted so normal toward her that day.

Yes, it had clearly been a bit of an effort on his part, but she had dreaded having him either try to be extra kind or just shut her out. She was happy with having their old relationship back, even if it was a bit different now.

Walking back to her flat, Christine became aware of footsteps coming up behind her. She quickly assessed the distance to Erik's house if she needed to run back. She had only gotten about a city block distance away.

She turned to see who was coming, and felt a mix of relief and anxiety at seeing that it was Raoul. She slowed so he could catch up with her.

When Raoul was beside her and they were walking at the same pace, he finally spoke.

"Christine," he said flatly, "I've been thinking."

Christine nodded, but her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her as she walked. She had a sinking feeling that she knew what he was going to say.

"I don't think I could live without you in my life," Raoul said, "So I can't hope to ever cut you out of it from spite. I was a fool to ever think that."

Christine glanced at his face and saw that he was being completely truthful. She felt a pang of guilt for how she had made him ever want to, but she was worried he was still going to be stuck on the hope of marrying her.

"I accept that you do not wish to marry me and I am at peace with it," he said, however grimly, "I do wish to remain your friend though, and I hope I haven't ruined any chance of that."

Christine smiled to herself. This was going much better than she had thought it would. She gently bumped her shoulder against him in a playful way.

"You mess up a lot of things, Raoul, but I already told you I want you to still be my friend," she said, "So let's get over this weird in between phase and just get to the being friends again phase. I'm tired of in between phases."

Raoul laughed and took Christine by the shoulder, spinning her so she was facing him. He had a big goofy grin on his face and it made Christine smile wider in spite of herself.

"Then let all between phases be in the past!" Raoul said excitedly. He kissed Christine on the crown of her head.

Christine laughed at his exclamation, but it made her feel guilty for the perpetual between phase she seemed to have doomed herself and Erik to.

Raoul offered to walk her to her flat and she accepted. She allowed Raoul to talk the entire time, being mostly silent and lost in thought on the way.

Erik was eating a sandwich quietly. His mother had made it for him and he kicked his feet habitually. He could feel Sasha's fur brushing up against the bottom of his feet as she walked around under the table.

The mask was on the table next to his plate. Meals were some of the few times his mother allowed him to not wear it. She found she hated having to wash it more than she hated having to look at her son.

Erik could hear his mother washing dishes in the kitchen behind him.

He reached out one of his hands across the table until it brushed over a warm spot on the tablecloth. The sunlight was streaming in from the large window in front of him and he smiled at the feeling of the sun over his hand.

He took another bite of his sandwich and hummed a bit as he ate. He could hear voices distantly outside of the house, but he wasn't worried about them looking in through the window and seeing him. His mother had always told him he was too short for someone to see him through the window.

The voices grew closer, and Erik thought they must be right outside the house by then. They stopped moving and the voices began a crescendo to where he could make out the words.

"Yeah, this is it. The little freak can probably hear us right now. If he can, he should come out and say hi."

"Why would you say that? He can probably put a curse on us if we see his face!"

"Don't worry, demons are too weak to curse anyone when they're in a child's body. He doesn't have enough power to do anything to us."

"Hey! Freak! Come on out! We just want to talk to you! Don't worry, you're probably immortal anyway!'

There was a chorus of laughter at this comment, and Erik had retracted his hand by then. He was getting the feeling that these people weren't exactly nice. He laid his hand on his mask, getting ready to put it back in place if needed.

There was a crash and Erik was struck by several sharp objects and one with considerable weight behind it. The rock had struck him on his forehead and he felt his face become wet with his own blood.

Erik bellowed in pain and anger, putting the mask back on his face and running to the door. Sasha whimpered behind him, and he knew she was cowering under the table.

Erik burst through the door and screamed in anger at the group of people.

There was a cacophony of screams as they saw what must have been a terrifying thing of a small, masked figure dripping with blood and screaming like a banshee.

The screams petered out as the group ran for their lives.

Erik closed the door and walked back to the dining room. He crawled under the table, holding one hand above his head to keep himself from hitting it on the table.

Sasha came up to him, whining and whimpering. Erik knew she had been hurt, and he gently ran his hands over her feet, legs, and everywhere else to find if she had been cut by the glass from the window. He found one of her feet had a large piece of glass still embedded in it and he felt the slow ooze of blood coming from the wound.

Erik carefully lifted his dog and carried her out from under the table and to the bathroom. He gently laid her on the counter by the sink and started the water. He pulled her paw so it was under the cold stream of liquid and used his fingers to carefully prod at the glass to see if the wound would require stitches.

"Shh, shh," Erik whispered to his pet, "It's okay. You're going to be okay. I'm going to take care of you."

Sasha whimpered in response as Erik pulled the glass from her paw. The cut was deep, but not deep enough to need stitching.

The air tasted metallic and Erik knew it was from the blood.

Once Sasha was safely lain in her bed with a bandage, Erik turned to fix his own injuries.

He carefully took off his mask and ran it under the faucet, hoping his mother wouldn't be angry with him for getting so much blood on it. The blood had made it stick uncomfortably to his face and made a sound like tearing as he pulled it off.

The blood had started to clump together and come off of his face in chunks. A new stream of blood began coming from the wound on his forehead as he cleaned the clotted blood away. He knew a doctor would probably recommend that he get it stitched up, but he would rather not, so he carefully wrapped it and put his mask back on his face.

His mother had stood to watch the entire thing, and had been talking to him, but he hadn't listened. She sounded upset and he didn't want to deal with that while he was trying to repair the damage.

Now that he tuned in to what she was saying, he heard her reprimanding him.

"You foolish boy! Did they see you? Did you talk to them? Why would you do such a thing? I can't believe I actually gave birth to you. You are the worst thing that ever happened to me. I wish the rock through the window had killed you."

Erik had heard it all before and he calmly walked over to the piano as she talked. He placed his hands on the keys and began playing. He played a song that had worked every time before, and he hoped it would work this time.

Madeleine's ranting began a slow decrescendo until she was no longer even talking. She listened to him play and began to cry. Her tears now were less from her anger and fear than they usually were. She seemed to be overcome with grief.

"I wish you were dead," she sobbed into a pillow.

Erik woke up slowly. He knew he was dreaming, but he recognized it as reality. He had to pull himself awake and he felt unrested when he did. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all and he ran the events of his dream through his mind again.

He rubbed the raised skin where the scar from that day still was. He knew his face was pockmarked with smaller scars from the shards of glass.

Erik sat up in bed and cursed.

Couldn't his mother ever leave him alone? Even after she was dead, she stuck around in his head to torment him.


	21. Angels

Christine stared at the ceiling. She was thinking hard, but not really getting anywhere.

She had let a few weeks pass since she had told Erik she needed some time, and she was beginning to think it had been long enough.

She really thought she might love him. She thought about everything she knew about him, and it all made her smile.

Erik was kind. He never tried to hurt anyone, though he sometimes did by accident. He might have been inconsiderate at times, but he tried to fix it when she called attention to it.

Erik was smart. He was so very smart. He was a musical genius, and his thought process was so elegant. He always came to such a delicate and balanced solution to any question.

Erik was completely dedicated. He gave everything his complete attention when he was working on it and he never half-did anything.

Erik was considerate. Not necessarily of everyone's feelings, as he usually didn't really think about what others would think about his actions, but he always tried to do what Christine would be happiest with. She had asked for time, and he hadn't brought it up since then, though she could tell he wanted to. He didn't act coldly to her for anything she said, and that was a refreshing contrast to Raoul.

Christine knew she was blushing at the thought of him, but she didn't worry too much about it since she was alone.

Lastly, Christine knew that he loved her. She might not have known it, except for the kiss. Just from the kiss she knew he truly did love her, and he had admitted it to her himself after the fact. Erik loved her, and Christine was beginning to think she loved him in return.

Christine's cheeks hurt from smiling so much to herself.

But why the mask?

The thought hit her like a plane crash.

She had never found out why he wore the mask. She had assumed it was for a similar reason as other blind people wear dark sunglasses, but the longer she thought about it, the less it made sense. Surely he didn't need an entire mask just to cover his eyes.

Christine sat up in her bed and frowned. She knew she should have thought about this before, but she really did think she should know why he wore the mask. At least before she let herself completely fall for him.

Glancing out the window, Christine saw it was just about dark outside. She resolved to ask Erik about it, and went to bed.

"Does Lottie like people, or kittens, or dogs?" her father asked.

Christine furrowed her brow in concentration. Her father had been using the game to teach her how to spell, and it was still hard for her sometimes.

"Oh! Kittens! It's kittens!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly.

Her father smiled at her.

"How about butterflies, candy, or birds?"

"Ooh! It's butterflies! I know that!" Christine giggled.

"But lottie loves best when she's asleep," her father began.

"And the angel of music sings to make her sleep deep," Christine finished cleverly.

Her father laughed, scooping her up in his arms.

"Very good, little Lottie. Who taught you to think to quickly?"

Christine laughed, throwing her arms wide as she was swung through the air.

"Papa, the game is too easy. Everyone knows the answers."

"Huh, is that so? Perhaps we should find a more difficult game to play."

Christine frowned.

"Will the angel of music still be part of it?" she asked, concerned.

Her father put her down on the ground and rubbed his chin in thought. He smiled at her and shook his head.

"Why all this fuss over the angel?" he asked, crouching down to look her in the eye.

"You said the angel is real," Christine said.

"So I did, but why does that mean he should be in our games?"

"Well, don't you think he would be sad if he's not a part of our game anymore? He must be very lonely."

Nodding thoughtfully, her father smiled.

"I suppose you must be right. That settles it then, the angel will still be part of the game."

"Yay!"

"Now, What else have I told you about the angel of music?"

Christine skipped alongside her father as he began walking again.

"No one knows what he looks like, but he comes to teach people who were born with music. If you listen to him, you will be a great musician."

Christine recited it all from memory, having been told these things from the moment she had opened her eyes. Her father was nodding along to everything she said as they walked.

"Lottie, do you want to be a great musician?" her father asked when she was done.

Christine nodded vigorously.

"Yes, just like you, Papa. I don't want to play violin, but I want to be as good as you at something with music."

Her father smiled.

"You will be better than me, especially if you find the angel of music and listen to him. Would you like to play an instrument, or will you sing?"

Christine looked up at her father with awe.

"The angel of music works with singing?" she asked earnestly.

"Of course, my dear, singing is one of the purest forms of music. People are born with their voice, so it is music given to us from god when we sing. Unfortunately, I was not given the gift of a good singing voice."

"I want to sing! I want to sing the most beautiful music in the world!" Christine said, spinning and jumping.

Her father laughed and agreed with her.

"You will."

Christine woke up in the morning and frowned at the ceiling.

She normally didn't have dreams that were so directly memories as this one had been.

Trying to get back to sleep, the dream played through Christine's mind on repeat as if it were trying to embed itself into her skull.

Christine groaned and turned onto her side. She stared at the clock for a moment. It was too early. She wanted to lay in bed for the entire day and do nothing, even if she couldn't get back to sleep.

She sighed and resigned herself to wakefulness. She sat up in her bed and pulled a handful of hair away from her face.

Christine padded out to the kitchen in her socks and started some tea for herself. As it was heating up, she pulled her hair back and out of her face in a sloppy ponytail that she would have to fix later.

She sat at the table and sipped her tea, casually thinking about the day she had before her.

Erik grumbled his way to work. He hadn't been sleeping well because his stupid dreams came whenever he lay in bed. The dreams always left a sour taste in his mouth, but usually only came once a month at most. Having had them constantly for almost a week made Erik be in a particularly bad mood.

Erik unlocked the front door of the store and closed it quietly behind him. He tried to calm himself down, but his lack of sleep would be a problem when he needed to keep his mood in check. He knew he didn't have the energy to pretend he was in a better mood.

He walked back to his office and unlocked it as well.

Erik had a peculiar sense of deja vu at the familiar circumstance. It had been a while, but for years he had come into the store, early in the morning, with a dark and unfriendly mood.

The realization that he had at one point been regularly unhappy and upset didn't help his emotions to lighten.

Erik had never bothered to turn on the lights when he entered the store before, but today he found himself flicking the switches up and he heard the electric hum as the lights all slowly clicked on.

He had decided to break the habit for the day at the thought of Christine. It seemed like the kind of thing she would do. Just a small thing that would likely be unnoticed, but would bring a bit of light to someone else's day.

He had a heavy feeling in his chest, letting him know she would never love him and he didn't deserve it anyway, but he wanted her to be happy anyway.

Erik chuckled to himself.

He was thinking about someone other than himself. Daroga would be proud. He had always berated Erik for how he was quicker to be selfish than not.

Erik thought bitterly that he might just be trying to be nice so Christine would like him more. He knew Daroga would have offered the same comment if he were there. Nothing Erik did would ever be good enough to redeem himself.

He trudged around his office for a while, reorganizing things that didn't need to be reorganized and just generally not even trying to help his mood.

The door to the store opened and Erik could hear someone taking their position at the counter. He knew Christine wasn't supposed to come in that day until around noon, so he paid little attention to whoever was out there that morning.

The two worked in mutual silence for a while, they both seemed to be ignoring the presence of the other. Erik restrung a bow he had lying on his desk and applied rosin. He didn't want to drive himself to boredom, so he picked up the bow's companion and began to play.

He was playing the most impressive song he could think of, because for some reason, he wanted the cashier at the counter to know that he was a fantastic musician. He wanted whoever the person was to be jealous of his talent.

It was entirely selfish and self-serving, Erik knew. He couldn't quite justify his desire to be an object of jealousy, but it burned in him nonetheless.

He played and poured his soul into the music, making sure it was as intricate and difficult as possible.

Half way through the song, Erik heard the cashier make a call, but he ignored it. He continued to play until he heard it.

"Yeah, Christine?" the cashier asked, "Yeah. I'm feeling sick and I need someone to come in and cover for me. I really need to get home."

Erik stopped playing and listened. He wanted to know if Christine would actually be coming in early that day.

The cashier talked with Christine for another minute before Erik heard him thank her and end the call. That meant she would be coming in to cover for him.

Erik ran his hand around the collar of his shirt to make sure it wasn't twisted or folded anywhere and he brushed at the shoulder of his blazer, knowing some rosin powder had probably fallen there.

Erik listened as the cashier packed up his things and prepared to leave. A few minutes later, the door opened with the familiar sound of the bell and Christine's voice greeted him. The two exchanged a few words before the cashier left and Christine took his place.

Christine hummed softly to herself as she worked. Erik reached to open the door of his office, but his bad mood snatched at him as he did.

She didn't want to see him. Why would she? They were nothing but coworkers now. Perhaps even worse than that, he was just her teacher now and nothing more.

He hated the thought of Christine seeing his lessons as something professional and so cold. He wanted them to be comfortable and friendly.

But he had made them more professional. Every note he played or word he said during their lessons now was simply work.

Why would Christine want to see him if she didn't have to?

Madeleine was right, Erik thought, he was the worst thing that could happen to someone. Being in anyone's life was the worst thing he could do to them. No one wanted that.

He resolved that, if he truly cared about her, he would stay away from Christine. That was the best thing he could do for her.

He retracted his hand and stepped back to his desk. He was not going to open that door while she was there unless necessary.

He picked up the violin again and began to play, but this time it was much softer and gentler. He played one of the simpler melodies that he knew and tried to think of nothing but work.

Christine had heard Erik walking around behind the door to his office. It had sounded like he was going to come out at one point, when his steps came near the door, but he never did. He had started playing the violin, and Christine didn't want to interrupt him, but she was upset he hadn't come to say hello to her that day.

He always knew when it was her. He somehow always knew that she had come in. She had liked trying to figure out what had given it away each time, but today he didn't give any indication that he had recognized her that day.

Christine walked to the door of his office and knocked quietly.

"Do you need something, Christine?" Erik answered.

Christine swallowed. So he had recognized her.

"I just wanted to say hi,"

"Good morning,"

Christine waited to see if he would say anything else.

"Are you very busy today?" She asked.

"Not terribly. If you need anything, just let me know. I only have a few things to work on."

"Oh. Okay. Well, if you get done and want to come hang out out here, I'm working a double shift, so I'll be here all day."

"Thank you."

Christine walked back to the counter. She wondered if there was something wrong. Erik had not acted like he was upset with her, just more like they weren't even friends in the first place.

If he didn't want to talk to her that day, she would have to wait until her next lesson to ask him about the mask, but she would be extremely bored during work that day.

She inwardly groaned at the thought of the hours she would have to herself in the store.

Christine was just about to go crazy with boredom. Erik had stayed in his office and seemed to purposefully not play anything for hours. She knew that days class had ended a few minutes ago without her having attended, but she could use the extra hours.

The door opened and Christine turned at the sound.

There was Raoul, standing in front of the door and looking around at the store. Christine stood up to greet him and he smiled.

"What brings you to this corner of the neighborhood again?" Christine asked playfully.

Raoul rolled his eyes.

"I was told a guy who works here knows a lot about instruments, and I need some advice."

Christine's smile faltered. He wanted Erik? She didn't really want to bother him at the time, but he did say she could if she needed something.

"I know who you need," she assured him, "I'll get him for you. Wait here."

Raoul nodded, seemingly unaware of Christine's discomfort.

Christine took a breath and headed to Erik's office. She paused for a moment before knocking firmly on the door.

"A customer needs you," Christine said and chewed on her lip nervously.

The door opened and Christine found herself looking up at Erik. He had his thin lips relaxed in a frown and Christine noticed his blazer had and indentation from a violin, along with a few flecks of rosin dust on his lapel.

Christine cleared her throat and stepped back.

"He's uh, he's in the waiting area. Do you want me to bring him here or do you want to go there?" Christine asked.

Erik shrugged and started walking out to the waiting area. Christine followed behind him, having to hurry to keep up with his long strides.

Raoul raised an eyebrow at Christine when he saw Erik. Christine could only shrug hopelessly.

Erik stopped at the edge of the waiting area and Christine came around him to introduce them to each other.

"Uh, Raoul, this is Erik, you have actually met briefly if you remember, he's the string instrument expert for the store."

Raoul scanned Erik as if sizing him up. He was frowning, and Christine couldn't help feeling incredibly awkward with the entire situation.

Erik's face betrayed no emotion through the introduction, and he simply nodded at Christine's words.

Raoul shrugged and tried to offer his hand to Erik in greeting.

"Well, you sound like the person I need," he said, his outstretched hand remaining unanswered.

Christine felt her face growing hot. She wasn't sure if she was embarrassed, frustrated, or what.

Raoul should have known better, she thought, even if Erik wasn't blind, the mask covered his eyes and would be blocking his vision. What was Raoul thinking?

With a smirk so slight Christine almost missed it, Raoul let his hand fall back to his side.

"Well, I should let you know I have virtually no musical knowledge at all, so most of this is going to be on you,"

"That will be fine. What exactly is the problem?"

Raoul gave Christine a sideways look before responding.

"I have received a violin as a gift, and I think I may have damaged it," he said a bit guiltily. He raised the violin case in his left hand as if to emphasise his point.

Erik nodded and extended his hand.

"I can repair it. After the repair is complete, I will instruct you on how to avoid damaging it in the future."

Raoul plopped the case into Eriks hand and Christine saw Erik visibly flinch at the careless handling of the instrument. They discussed fees and timelines before Erik took the instrument into his office and closed the door behind him.

Christine took her place behind the counter and tried to busy herself, but Raoul hadn't left the store, and she had the feeling he wanted to talk to her.

Christine jumped at the sound of Raoul laughing. She looked up at him with her eyebrows raised.

"He's blind!" Raoul laughed, "I thought he was just some sort of freak. Oh man, Christine, did you like my handshake thing? I thought it was brilliant. Oh man. I hope he has a fun time repairing my violin, because it's a pretty serious break."

Christine's face was growing warm again, but she knew it was from anger.

"What?"

Raoul waved off her question.

"I can't believe you actually spend time with that guy. Not only here at wark, but you're letting him give you lessons as well? Wow. I doubt he's good for anything more than a pity friendship. How much are you paying him? It's not worth it, however much you are."

Christine was done.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you hate him so much? You don't even know him!" She interrupted.

Raoul laughed again.

"I thought he was an actual threat to me before, but now I see. It's so clear now. I don't hate him, I'm relieved, don't you see? I don't have to worry that this guy will take you from me. He's pathetic."

Christine shook her head. She was on the verge of crying, but her anger was stronger than her sadness.

"Raoul. I am not yours to be taken. What do you think that would even mean? I thought you understood that. You are a cruel person and I can't believe I didn't see it before. Go away Raoul. I can't even talk to you right now."

Raoul was stunned. He stood in silence for a moment before he turned and left, with angry mumbling under his breath.

Christine felt tears filling her eyes and a sob climbing up her throat. She grabbed a handful of candy from the bowl on the counter and sat on the floor behind the counter. She let herself cry and she felt completely helpless.

She would have normally been able to look to Raoul for comfort, but he was the one person she didn't want to see just then. Erik was being distant for some reason and might be upset with her. She had no one.

Christine briefly worried about if a customer came, but the sound of heavy rain began suddenly and she knew it was not likely.

Through her sobs, Christine heard music. It reminded her of her father. It was the last song she had ever heard him play. She couldn't tell if Erik was playing it or if she was just imagining the song, but it gave her a warm feeling. She shook with silent sobs for a few more minutes before she wiped her eyes and stood back up.

Erik had heard everything. Raoul had apparently been playing some sort of prank on him and he felt terribly clever for it. Raoul had called him pathetic, and thought he was a freak. He treated blindness as some sort of obscenity, like no one would want to be associated with it.

Erik ran his hand over Raoul's violin. The boy had somehow cracked the neck so severely it was barely staying in one piece. There was also a deep crack through the belly and the chin rest had almost fallen off. Erik had only ever seen damage this serious when an instrument had been given to a child.

Erik found some solace in the thought that Raoul would be paying for all the repairs, though he clearly had plenty of money for it if he could afford to have a violin, destroy it, and repair it, all without even knowing how to play it.

This project was going to take him a while, but he dreaded even beginning.

He had heard Raoul say that Christine would only have a pity friendship with him. Despite knowing Raoul was a complete idiot, this was particularly painful for Erik, because he already had thoughts along those lines himself. He didn't want Christine to feel obligated to be kind to him.

Erik could hear Christine sobbing and he felt a strong mixture of guilt and anger. He knew Raoul was to blame for why Christine was crying, but he was probably the last person she wanted to have comfort her. He was the reason Raoul had acted that way.

Erik pulled out his own violin, thinking he could try to do something, anything, to make her feel at least a bit better.

As he tried to think of a song that might help, one song kept coming to mind. He wasn't sure why this particular song caught his interest, but he began to play it.

As he played, it was as if he no longer possessed his own body and hands. He heard the music swell and take shape, but he was not in control. It was as if someone else were guiding him through the song.

 **Author's Note: Hey, thanks for reading! I just wanted to let anyone who's interested know that I may be pretty slow coming with the next chapters, but they will come. I will do my best to keep bringing you my best work, but you might need to wait longer between chapters. Thanks again and see you next time!**


	22. Guardians

Christine had the beginnings of an idea sprouting in her mind. She knew it was pretty crazy, but at the same time, it made complete sense to her.

She remembered her father always telling her that the angel would come when he was needed. He was a mystery, no one knew what he looked like. Christine had always assumed this part meant that he was just a voice, but she was starting to think it was a bit different. The angel inspired perfect music in the hearts of true musicians.

Christine had long ago stopped thinking of herself as a musician. She had thought it was silly to think that, but everything in her was starting to shift ever so slightly. Nothing seemed so crazy anymore.

Christine went to class and sat in her usual seat. She wondered if Raoul would sit next to her, or if he would think she was mad at him and leave her alone.

In truth, she was upset with him, but she wanted him to fix it. She wanted him to be kind and gentle again, make her feel better.

Before class began, she found out how he would act.

Raoul came in and sat in his usual seat, next to Christine. He talked to her as if nothing had happened, and smiled and laughed as normal.

Christine was surprisingly happy with his attitude that day. He was acting like his old self, the way she liked to think of him.

In the back of her mind, she had a continuous loop of their last interaction playing without her wanting it. She wished she could forget it, but at the same time, she refused to forget it. She wished it had never happened. She wished Raoul were a kinder person, like she had known him as a child.

Raoul offered to walk her home that day, but she declined. She didn't offer him any excuse, in a petty act of revenge, as if that would change him or something.

Raoul smiled and waved as he left, leaving Christine to talk to Professor Khan. She turned to see that he was already studying her, as if he knew she was wanting to talk to him.

"Can I help you?" he asked courteously.

Christine nodded.

"I actually have two things I would like your help with," she said, feeling her palms begin to sweat, "I'm not sure you can actually help, but I need someone to listen, uh, who isn't my flatmate."

Professor Khan smiled.

"I'll do my best in whichever I can, then," he said, pausing to consider the circumstances, "Would either of them have to do with Erik, perhaps?"

Christine blushed, with a sheepish smile.

"Maybe,"

"Then come to my office. I'll make us some tea."

After explaining her developing theory, Christine looked hopefully at her professor. She wasn't sure why she thought he could help her, but she just knew Meg would be too opinionated to be helpful.

Taking a sip from his tea, Professor Khan broke the silence.

"Guardian angels," he mused, "They are an amusing idea, to be sure. I do believe, because so many cultures have such a concept, there may be something behind it. However, I cannot say I have any proof of such beings, or that I know much about them at all."

Christine nodded. She had expected him to say something like that. She just hoped he didn't think she was completely juvenile for suggesting such a thing.

"I have to say, your idea is unique. I have never heard of this theory, and by extent, had someone try to apply it to an actual person in their life."

Christine put her tea down.

"I know it's a bit, uh, unconventional, but I think it fits. I mean, at least HE fits. I've never met anyone like him, and I can't explain it, but I have a feeling about him. Everything my father said, fit the concept of guardian angels, and he fits everything my father said. I can't explain exactly what I mean."

Professor Khan considered this for a moment.

"I find this theory rather, I think this is the word, elegant. It not only adheres to many cultural beliefs, but also satisfies logical thinking. I would like to have some time to think it over, but I think it's a very intriguing concept."

Christine agreed.

"Now," Professor Khan said, taking another sip of his tea, "What was your other problem?"

Christine smiled, nervously. She was completely unsure of how to say what she was going to say.

"Uh, well, I guess the root of the problem is Raoul," she admitted.

 **Author's Note: Hey, I know it's been a while. I hit a writing slump on this idea, but after writing a ton on another project, I was able to motivate myself to write more on this one. Hopefully it will last, so I can update more regularly, but I can't promise anything. Thank you all for being patient, whether willingly or not, and I hope you enjoy.**


	23. Antagonists

After having explained everything that had happened with Raoul, Christine found herself on the verge of tears. She was not only upset after having relived the events, but relieved at having finally told someone how conflicted she was and exactly what she felt.

Her Professor gave her a sympathetic smile and offered her a box of tissues.

Plucking a tissue from the box, Christine thanked him and dabbed at the wetness in her eyes.

"I'm very sorry you have had to go through this," her professor said, a deep melancholy tone in his words.

Christine shrugged.

"It's my own fault," she said, "I put myself in these situations and don't do anything about it. I'm too sentimental, and I let myself get attached."

Professor Khan leaned forward in his seat, fixing Christine with and intense gaze.

"This is not your fault," he stated firmly, "Do not even say such things. You cannot control the actions of others. Do not beat yourself up for what others do to you. Place blame where blame is due, not all on yourself."

Christine looked up at her professor, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her lip trembled and she just wanted to hug him.

"Thank you. I don't know when the last time someone said that to me was," she said, her voice quiet and soft, "I know all of that, but I don't believe it unless someone else says it, you know? I just can't thank you enough."

Professor Khan nodded, smiling and trying to be as reassuring as he could.

"Now, about this boy," he said, his voice suddenly becoming more deadly serious than before, "I know you don't want me to say this, but he's not good for you."

Christine nodded.

"I know, I just, I can't make myself leave him. I love him. He's like family to me, and I don't really have any family other than him. I know it's foolish."

She looked down at her hands, they being twisted together in her lap. She remembered Erik's advice and released her grip, feeling a slight relief from the relaxed muscles.

"Not at all," Professor Khan said, "It's completely natural for you to feel that way. You have important memories and parts of your life connected with him, and you are afraid to lose that."

Christine looked up, considering this. It made sense. She really was. That was it.

"What you need to accept is that, you will not lose any of that if you let go of him now," her professor said gently, "None of that will be lost. You will be the same person."

Christine felt tears welling up in her eyes again and she looked back down.

With a trembling voice, she whispered "But what if I'm not?"

Professor Khan shook his head.

"Listen," he said, drawing her attention back up to him, "When your father died, did you lose everything he taught you?"

Christine's tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt a glow in her chest, finally understanding.

"I get it, Professor. I understand. Thank you so much. Everything my father was is the same now as it was. I will never lose him, but I will let go of Raoul to preserve his memory. Thank you so much."

The pair stood up, and Christine pressed her professor's hand in her own. Still crying with happiness. They parted with both of them in good spirits, and a goal in mind for both of them.

As he watched Christine leave, Nadir took a breath and prepared for some grading. He had a specific student in mind that he needed to teach a lesson to.

 **Author's Note: Hey, I know this chapter is pretty short. Sorry. It was either this or you have to wait about a month for another chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**


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